


Dark Impressions

by Phynxlegion



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 14:38:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 35,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phynxlegion/pseuds/Phynxlegion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hogwarts gets an exchange student during the dawn of the return of Lord Voldemort in The Goblet of Fire. The new student's purpose and interactions soon have an effect on the behind the scenes events of the school, leading to the final battle of Hogwarts. The story was designed to operate within the confines of the HP canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

****Part I – The Arrival** **

**Chapter 1: The Queens and Bees**

Professor Severus Snape’s dark robes flipped and twisted violently in his wake, rushing to join Professors McGonagall and Hagrid standing by their astute headmaster Dumbledore. Wearing his typical brisk snobbish expression, he adjusts his cloak before acknowledging his fellow staff.

“Well, I suspended my preparations for the next school year even though I only have three weeks left before the start of the year. What’s so important to drag all of us away from our preparations…” He pauses to stare coldly at Hagrid before continuing, “…well, almost all of us.”

Dumbledore clears his raspy throat and prepares to speak only to stop to stare up into the patchy clouds of the midday sky. “Ah…the time has arrived, and so has our guests.”

Descending from above the clouds, a pair of mammoth red birds circles down gracefully, riding the embers of the currents. Snape stares intently discerning the two riders, each with packs and heavy loads strapped to the birds. Dressed in heavy beige travelling cloaks, they guide the fiery feathered birds down towards the ground at amazing speeds. In less than a minute, the birds are spreading their huge wings and gently landing before the assembly. Boasting easily a fifty-foot wing span, the melting of red, orange, and brown feathers gave the common onlooker a sense of awe as the rustling of wings resembled a wall of fire. Bowing down before the entourage before them, the birds allow their riders to disembark easily, and release the satchel bags they carry. The smile and awe covering Hagrid’s face seems permanently etched as he steps forward to take the reigns of the majestic Thunderbirds of American legend.

The weary and worn pair finish releasing the bags from the birds, and collect them into a pile. The taller rider, easily six feet tall, drops the hood of the cloak and displays a warm and greeting smile to the crowd. Her long red locks fall free from their confinement, and rest just above her waist.

“Uncle Albus! It’s great to see you! Let’s see…” She places her hand horizontally on her lower thigh. “I came up to here last time I saw you.”

She closes with him to share a warm hug before continuing.

Dumbledore slips an embarrassed grin to Minerva, who can’t contain her amusement, enjoying the rare moments of embarrassment she gets to witness. She listens intently at their banter, and accurately identifies her unique Australian accent.

“Amelia, yes it has been a while, but you have certainly grown since then…and this must be your apprentice you spoke of.”

Nodding, she motions for her companion to join them. “Yes, Albus this is YOUR exchange student…one Constance Marie Hollander.”

Discarding the traveling robe, the small girl reveals a full-length gothic black dress along with matching boots and gloves. She strides alongside her teacher and bows dramatically to the Headmaster then professors, letting her straight raven locks fall into her face. Rising, she pushes her petit round spectacles snuggly against the bridge of her nose.

Dumbledore breaks the silence to announce, “Well our guests have traveled a long distance today, so let’s retire to the school for some supper and continue our discussion there.”

 

Moving around the remaining food on his plate, Headmaster Dumbledore concedes with not finishing the remaining morsels and pushes the plate aside.

“It’s decided then. Severus, you will test her knowledge level in potions and defense against the dark arts, while Minerva and I will test her aptitude and placement in the remaining areas. It’s obvious she has considerable real world experience, but it’s only fair to ensure she has enough training to intermesh with our curriculum and students.”

Amelia Creighton only nods and sighs. “I understand, but she’s quite adept…the fastest learner I’ve had in almost seventy years. Albus, I’m sure she won’t disappoint you.”

Severus only sighs dramatically, refusing to believe her opinion. The aged headmaster diplomatically smiles, and tries to find some middle ground.

“Nonetheless, we will determine her aptitude prior to school starting, which brings me to my next point: which house should she be put in?”

Minerva speaks up immediately, having been preparing herself for this question. “I don’t believe the sorting hat should determine that. She has an air about her; and to put her in Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, could seriously disrupt the house and its students.”

Albus continues to nod in agreement, and says little. Staring off, he watches the dazed and bewildered girl eat quietly at the end of the table, seemingly oblivious to the decisions firing all around her. With the pale skin of years of studies surrounded by shelves of books, Albus notices the great weights hanging on her shoulders; he grimaces imagining the tragic tales she could tell, with only thirteen years to claim.

 

Severus waits patiently as Albus finishes reading Constance’s grades for the past three days of tests. Having taken the Pre- O.W.L.S. and countless other placement tests, she faired far better than Albus had expected. Even Snape, the most difficult to impress, was worried she was too experienced.

Albus sighs and looks at his potions teacher skeptically. “ _Really_ Severus? Do you actually believe she is overly qualified for your forth year? She’s only 13, she can’t be that qualified.”

Severus only cocks his head, holding his position firmly. “I believe she’s too qualified to sit in on my sixth year class as a teacher’s aide! The only way I could teach her more, is to delve into the forbidden section of my library; something, I do not intend to do. As for her Dark Arts training, she excels too well. Fortunately, she could teach some of my students thing or two, which wouldn’t be too bad considering how things are fairing. Too bad she wasn’t here from the beginning of her education; I might have taken her under my wing. Now, I think she’s too scarred and wildly educated to adequately learn anything here. I never thought I’d _ever_ say this, but wouldn’t the Durmstrang school be more appropriate for her _skills_?”

Albus shakes his head defiantly and silences him with a wave. “Definitely not! So she’s up to par for a fifth year? You can assign her additional tasks, perhaps to challenge her?”

Snape nods considering the possibilities. “I suppose. And are you still serious about putting her in Slytherin? Is that wise? She’ll hardly fit in.”

Albus only nods, while never taking his eyes off of the reports. “Yes indeed. I have my reasons; and when the time is right, she’ll fit into our plans where we need her to. When she is done with her broomstick tests, could you send her to me? I wish to have a word with her, after I go over her test results.” 

 

Bowing as before, Constance waits to be addressed before standing upright again. A habit beaten into her by one of her teachers; she never forgave him and probably never will.

Albus looks up surprised, and clears his throat. “OH! Come dear, it’s alright. If you wish to continue that, you must only bow once, because I doubt anyone will acknowledge you with the appropriate response. Sylver Tannious was one of your teachers, was he not?”

Hearing the name of that loathsome balding man does little to put her at ease. A small mousy voice replies, “Yes sir. He was my Potions, Dark Arts, and Herbology teacher long ago.”

Albus only nods, and motions to sit beside his desk. After offering her a butter beer, he continues.

“Ah yes…I remember hearing about Sylver…he was never very fond or kind to children. I’m sorry. Well, other than your Broom and Magical Creatures studies, you actually exceed the requirements for a fifth year. This is good for you, but I’m afraid you’ll have to take remedial classes on those two areas. Due to your age, I must insist you be placed with students of your own age in the fourth year class, until your skills are up to par. And I’m fully aware you learned how to fly without brooms and such, but we stick to the classical arts here. Oh, and I hear you don’t use a traditional wand and can cast non-verbally either? Well, as I said we stick with the classics here, so I’ll arrange a trip to London so you can get the standard supplies all students use here. Furthermore, I’ll store your...instruments…here in my office. Now, Professor Snape has told me you have exceeded his requirements for potions so I must say he will try and challenge you above the rest of the class. He’ll be harder on you for failure, only because he expects so much more.”

Constance only nods, comprehending as much as she can, and making sure she doesn’t interrupt him.

“I’ll ensure you have remedial wand training immediately, before the start of school. No one must know you can cast without using wands! Understand?” His glare makes Constance shiver in her boots.

She nods fearfully and squeaks, “Yes sir. Not a word.”

Transitioning back to the loveable school master, Dumbledore leans back in his chair and smiles. “Excellent! You’ll be in the Slytherin House, so you’ll fit in really well. I want you to fit in actually, and I have some special instructions that go along with that; but first…” Dumbledore rises and retrieves the tall sorting hat from atop his shelves. “…let me put this on you to appease my curiosity.”

 

Stumbling up the rough and weathered path from Hogsmeade, Constance found constant companionship no longer a burden; but rather an aching longing for familiarity after years of wandering the world with her mistress and protector. Sporting a set of small round spectacles, she pushes them higher onto the bridge of her nose, struggling to get used to their presence. Passed by a pair of Hufflepuff boys laughing and joking, they failed to notice Constance’s unique pale complexion or ghastly blue-black lips, until they turn to scare her with an animated balloon snake. As the blood drains from their faces, Constance widens her smile to a horrifically vile grin, exposing her exceptionally pronounced canines. Practically stumbling over their feet, they turn screaming and drop the half-full bag of remaining balloons. Snickering, Constance reaches down and retrieves the bag, fearing that it could hurt any animals that might come across them and eat them. A brisk wind erupts, announcing the change in weather, and she doubles her pace, not wanting to get caught far from the school in a torrential downpour.

As she steps towards the entrance, she can’t miss the enormous puddle across the threshold and pauses instinctively. With a loud crash, a waterfall explodes in front of her, dropped for high above. A disgruntled snarl from Peeves, the poltergeist, from far above holding a large brass pan, confirms her suspicions.

Laughing, Constance fires: “Next time try lobbing one of these filled with water.”

She drops the bag of balloons behind her as she enters the hall, sure that they won’t lie there for very long. Meandering back to her locker, she stows the jellybeans she’d bought, and magically locks it back up with a flick of her wand. As she stares out her window at the fading light and worsening weather, she waits until the first horseless carriages begin approaching from the train station, before finally heading down to the great hall. Noticing the horrific creatures pulling them, she notes no one seems to notice the beasts, and catalogs that for a question to ask another day.

Finding an open seat alongside her class mates underneath the Slytherin banner, Constance picks up a shimmering globe rolling by itself along the length of the table. After spending a minute looking at it, she sets it down, and it rolls away towards the end of the table. From the reflection of her glass of butter-beer, she notices a sinister figure edging closer to grasp at her hooded robe. Unlike the Hogwarts coats and ties, Constance was wearing the New England standard: hooded black robe and matching dress, the gloves and two-inch heeled boots were only optional and left to each witch’s preference. Though she only attended the school for two months, it was technically the last school she attended; therefore, she was required to wear the uniform, or wear a Hogwarts one. Not fond of the Hogwart’s colors, she figured she ought to stand out from her English counterparts, or have to explain constantly about her lack of an English accent. The only deviation to her uniform was a two inch long and one and a half inch wide Hogwarts pin, with the Slytherin emblem in the center. Just as the chubby and untidy boy leans in to grasp her hood, Constance spins out of her chair as he blinked his eyes, grasps his outstretched hand, and pulls him forward. A girlish yelp escapes his mouth as he falls forward across table’s bench, and whimpers in pain as his arm is pinned behind his back.

As she drives his arm tighter into his back, she whispers harshly, “Didn’t your mummy ever tell you to keep your hands to yourself?” Before she can hear his reply, a stern clearing of Professor Snape’s throat is all the suggestion Constance needs. Releasing his arm, Constance steps back quickly in case he still has hard feelings.

With his usual disdain, Professor Severus Snape seethes: “Mr. Goyle, would you please get Mr. Crabbe off the ground…it’s embarrassing.” Whizzing by, he continues to press forward to the staff table, joining the various professors already seated. 

As the boy is dragged away by the collar to the far end of their table, Constance sits back down, and finishes her drink. After downing it, she catches the scrutinizing gaze of a petit brunette seated at the Gryffindor table. Her mousey frame and discerning stare draws out a sinister grin across Constance’s black lips as she realizes she has an audience; and immeasurable pleasure as she watches her reel back in fear.

 

After witnessing the spectacle of introductions from the school’s latest Dark Arts teacher and new first-years students, the Slytherins find their places around the common room and their appropriate dormitories chatting and snickering. Constance’s presence was only a side note during dinner as an ‘exchange’ student, and no fanfare was attached to it. Even with that, she can’t help but become the subject of whispered conversations, finger pointing, and idle curiosity. With no further fanfare, diner ends as quickly, and Constance meanders back to her room. Pansy Parkinson, the self-appointed enforcer of order for Slytherin, strides towards her trailing a menagerie of sidekicks, supposedly as muscle. With her legs crossed, Constance sits idly on her bed, browsing the latest issue of _The Quibbler_ and munching on a paper bag filled with fresh salted crisps. She decides to continue reading until the hive makes their first move…whatever that may be. Pansy makes several exaggerated huffs and sighs to capture Constance’s attention; and her building aggravation becomes unmistakable. Without looking up from the Quibbler, she finally addresses her audience.

“I’m almost done. When I’m finished with it, you can have it.”

The lack of response pulls Constance’s gaze from the pages, up to meet Pansy’s threatening overbearing stance. Placing her finger on the spot she left off at, she begins absently tracing the sentence, as if it were brail. A girl at the rear whispers to a taller flat-haired blonde in front of her:

“She has the sage touch.”

Pansy misses the exchange, as she seethes, “So you’re from the colonies, huh? Well here, I run the place and you are nothing unless I say so.”

Constance shrugs, looks around, and asks innocently, “And you’re worried that I’ll come along and steal your queen-bee status? NO THANK YOU! You can have it. Listen, I’m here because no other school wants me, and Dumbledork thinks his school can warp me into the perfect student. If you’re the leader of this prison gang, then you have nothing to worry from me…remember? I’m from the states…instead of soccer we have baseball. And there, the name of the game is: play ball! Cool? Err…cheers…whatever you all say here? As for pecking order, fine! Hail to the queen, if that’s you. If not, hail to whoever calls them selves the headcheese! If you want me to dance behind you like the rest of your flock, fine! Done! But if you start pulling the reform school bully, song and dance by telling me this is your bed, and mine is on the roof or some other B-movie act, then we might have a breakdown in order. As long as you don’t go disrespecting my privacy, space, and belongings, I’ll pay homage to whatever you want me to.” She pauses only to flip the page and continue tracing the path of the paragraphs, dodging the pictures mixed among the text. “Ms. Parkinson, my name is Constance…and they call me Constance; not Connie, Cornie, Corkie, or any other pet name. As I said before, respect me, and you’ll have me as a devoted ally…stab me in the back…well this is a very small world.”

Pansy snarls back, bringing a threatening finger to bear. “Don’t you get smart with me! I’ll do…”

Constance cuts her off, pulling back her hood, revealing a flood of straight raven hair, and glass spectacles. She dramatically lowers the glasses from the bridge of her nose; her emerald green eyes, as the spectacles clear her eyes, suddenly take on a demonic green glow and unmistakable snake-eye appearance to the pupils. “You’ll have a devoted friend and ally, as long as you don’t screw me over. You’re calling the shots on this, not me. I can do a year either making connections in Slytherin, or in Azkaban…makes no difference to me.” She closes the magazine abruptly, affixes her glasses back tight against her nose using her little finger, and stands up to Pansy. Several inches shorter, even with her two inch heels Constance shows only indifference to this obvious fact; she smiles and leans against the foot post of her bed.

“Look what do you want from me? These kind of stand offs only result in busted lips and civil wars; neither of which I’m looking for. I already told you that I don’t want to be the leader of this troupe, nor do I have any intention of ripping it out from under you. You’re the mistress of this house, so what do you want? If you all want to lock the doors and have a brawling contest to see who’s the toughest chick, then I won’t lie down and take anyone’s crap. If you have another way of proving your dominance over newbie’s…all I can say is that I don’t like more than 3 at once. After three, they just seem like an audience, unless that’s your thing, of course.”

All but Pansy step back disgusted, offended, and grimacing their disdain at her perverse innuendo. An explosive round of laughter from Pansy draws everyone attention back onto her. As the only one who found any humor in their new arrival’s words, Pansy lets her echoing chuckles drift away, and she sucks in a quick draught of air before spitting out her reply.

“Fine! You’re a foul-mouthed Yank with as much spunk as me…I respect that. As long as you don’t cross me, I won’t have a problem with you. This…(referring to a hazel-eyed redhead standing to her right)…is Madeline. She’s my right hand, and I go through her when it comes to homework assignments and reports for extra credit. If you donate your time to our little pool, you’ll become a valuable asset in the house. Furthermore, if you are a valuable asset here, then we can acquire virtually anything you might require while here at Hogwarts.” She extends her hand out to Constance to shake.

Constance’s evil toothy smile makes all but the bravest shirk backwards in terror. Pansy, though as terrified as her ilk, refuses to show an ounce of  fear; and thinks to herself as she’s shaking Constance’s hand: _How does she do that?_

 

**Chapter 2: Potter Stinks!**

 

With the start of classes came a renewed sense of purpose for everyone. By October, Constance could do little to upset Pansy. Having taken her place beside the rest of the press gang, Constance’s studious nature had become essential for their house’s continued grade improvements. In no time, Constance was the one to go to for tutoring in scholastic areas, while taking remedial broom lessons from Pansy. With Pansy’s help, Constance had finally graduated to Second Year status in her broom handling skills, no small task for her.   Madeline, since arriving at Hogwarts, was now playing second fiddle for Pansy’s attention. Not that she had anything more than a childish crush for attention; she feared that her position as Pansy’s right-hand, was severely threatened. Even with the arrival of the Durmstrang and Beauxbaton Tri-Wizard contestants, Madeline could only dwell on being demoted as Pansy’s go to person. Cold and short to Constance, she refuses to even acknowledge her presence half the time.

Constance, on the other-hand, was desperate to avoid the internal squabbling Madeline was creating. Going out of her way to appease her, only resulted in further cold shoulders and briskly exchanged words. On several occasions, Constance even purchased Madeline’s favorite candy, and offered it to her, only to have it thrown back into her face cruelly. Resigned to her fate as a troublemaker, she simply tries not to purposefully upset her.

After the first week, it became more apparent Professor Snape’s advanced potions lessons were at best review sessions. Only after a week of his constant complaints to the headmaster, was Constance given a new area of study: Magical Creatures. Joining a second year class, she felt embarrassed at first. Amazed at the variety of creatures the school allowed, by the end of the week, an ache in her heart confirmed she might actually be disappointed testing out of the class early. Running a marathon race through courses, though challenging, was leaving little in the means of developing friendships outside of her house. Only as she finished reading the first, second, third, and fourth year text books for magical creatures did she realize the variety of personalities surrounding her. From a vivacious untarnished redhead dressed in secondhand robes and books, to a bizarrely intriguing blond, simply referred to ‘Looney Luna,’ Constance realized her fast track was leaving her own personal growth in the dust. Worse she felt uncomfortably alone, especially in the crowded classes. From those who beamed outright fear and brushed her off like a plague victim, to those who whispered vile comments out of spite, all kept a nebulous void between her and them. Despite this, the only one brave enough to even offer a kind word was the shunned Luna, who’s father published her favorite gossip magazine, all too similar to the Muggle’s Inquirer. Knowing she was to test out of Magical Creatures the following Saturday, she felt the pressure in her heart intensify knowing she would more than likely never be able speak to Luna, and share their perceptions on the breeding levels of the Grassy Barksniggles or Foomongers.

Even most of her house were unaware of the intensive studying Constance was doing everyday of the week, on top of her fourth-year studies. Though released from Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts, she still cycled between remedial Magical Creatures and broom handling, further taxing her stamina for learning. Looking forward to testing out of Professor Hagrid’s four years of magical creatures, Constance envied the prospect of her first weekend without tests, studies, or even homework. Pansy was abusing her pass to help Constance improve in broom handling, explaining it was the best way to help Constance improve was by teaching her how to play Quidditch. By the middle of September, Pansy had convinced Professor Snape to let the entire Slytherin team go out to really challenge Constance on her broom, while conducting team practices to stay on top of their game for the next year. Taking turns as the extra team member on either side, Constance ended the day sporting more than her fair share of bruises and sore muscles. Grudgingly, she admitted Pansy was right about the game testing her true worth on the broom.

The byproduct of teaching Constance the sport was her affinity to learn as much as she could about it. Despite the fanfare of the Tri-Wizard tournament raging around her, she sent for the latest Quidditch tournament papers, and fanatically learned the who’s who of their sporting world. Though few in her house had as much of a fascination over the sport, she found a handful she could latch onto, to fill her on the gaps the papers left out. Though the Americans had their Wizard’s Chess and Buggleball, a mix of baseball, football, and dodge ball (quite convoluted and often called barbaric by most of the wizardly world), Europe still latched tightly to the classic sport and the occasional Tri-Wizard tournament. Constance could understand their passion, watching dynamic aerobatic feats of skill, and could relate this to the school’s preoccupation with the ‘classic arts’ as Dumbledore coined it. Even as she wraps up her essay on the Hippogriff’s mating behavior and how it relates to the fire-slug’s, she longs to straddle her broom and soar amongst the clouds.

 

By early November, Constance finally saw relief in sight from her incessant studying and training. Promptly following breakfast, she was immersed in hours of third year finals. Knocking out Herbology, History of Magic, Transfigurations, and Charms before lunch, she spent the remainder of her day completing Professor Trelawney’s Divination class and Hagrid’s care of magical creatures; both up to forth year. Despite Trelawney’s flourishing praise of her meager and struggling attempts at divination, Constance was thrilled with not having the coke bottle spectacles staring down at her with intense fascination. Though dodging the skrewts explosive emanations was dicey at best, she happily took it over Trelawney’s hawk-like scrutinizing gaze.

Late Saturday afternoon on the seventh, Constance drags herself to lunch and mindlessly gobbles down a chef’s salad, hoping to wander to her room to decompress from an exhausting morning of testing. Though an afternoon nap was on her agenda, Pansy led her back into the common room for a Slytherin group meeting. Led by Pansy’s boy-toy Malfoy, Constance sat idly, despite having to pinch herself a dozen times to stay awake, as he rants his disdain of the Gryfindor’s shining star Harry Potter. Just as suddenly as it began, he leaves dragging his henchmen Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, presumably to accomplish whatever task he called the meeting for. Equally confused as when the meeting started, Constance looks to Pansy and slides up to her to whisper her burning question.

“So, what were we supposed to do again?”

Rolling her eyes, she laughs.

“Sorry, he gets lost sometimes. Our mission is to meet up with a friend of his in town. He supposed to give us a bag of buttons ready for enchantment. You’re good on enchantments right?”

Constance gets her turn to roll her eyes, and laughs evilly.

“It seems like that’s about the only thing I did when I was seven and eight! What did he have in mind?”

Pansy hesitates replying and launches a small electrical bolt, getting Madeline’s attention. She yelps unexpectedly, bringing a small roar of laughter to the room. No more painful than a static shock, she growls once and dismisses it seeing Pansy staring at her intently. Like any faithful servant she rushes to Pansy’s side, and never questions the use of the spell.

“Madeline will show you what we have in mind. The Hufflepuffs have a design and we will help them make it. They only have one descent enchanter, Roger Davies, and he isn’t very fast. We heard the Weasley twins could whip them out in a heartbeat over night, but we doubt they’ll rat out their own. Fortunately we have you! We only need a few…”

Constance asks tentatively, “A few dozen?”

Pansy shakes her head. “A few hundred. Oh, and the brighter the better. Madeline will get you anything you need.” Looking to Madeline, Pansy shoots out, “And that means anything! She is going to be busier than a one armed and one-legged troll on a broomstick!” 

Constance refrains from figuring out the English colloquial, and shakes her head, dislodging the murky fog it left behind. With the mind-numbing effects shaken off, she immediately notices the anger in Madeline’s eyes, having once again been dismissed as a valued member of Pansy’s squad. The trip down to Hogsmeade with Pansy was intended to be an honor reserved only for the elite; and as before, she was left behind to play second fiddle to the American witch again. Though Constance was quite sure she used a ‘B’ instead of a ‘W’ to spell it, she wasn’t willing to push the envelope tonight. The task given her wasn’t small, and she would undoubtedly be awake all night; so any and all help she got wasn’t to be trifled with.

Pulling out a sheet of parchment from a drawer in the common room, Constance sits and makes a list of all the supplies she’ll need; she is surprised it is reasonably priced: no high dollar items. Though gold was the local currency, she imagined Pansy had some reserve of wealth hidden away, as many of her friends did. Handing Madeline the list, she asks, “Do you want to go with Pansy and have her pay for all of this? It shouldn’t be more than a few gold down in Hogsmead. I could go with you?”

The disdain in Madeline’s expression answered her question than the meager ‘no’ spilt from her lips. Swallowing her pride, Constance nods.

“Well, I’ll get everything ready here, and talk to Mr. Davies. The sooner you get back, the sooner we can get it done.”

Madeline strides off with nothing more than a shrug, and disappears from Constance’s view leaving her sweet jasmine and lavender perfume wafting in the wake. With a hole left in her heart, she pushes away from the desk, and finds the mysterious and crafty Hufflepuff waiting in the dining hall. Quick to show off his button, she finds he used an old picture of Mr. Potter and a few scrap enchantment ingredients in his room. Legitimately impressed, Constance thanks him, which got a noticeably surprised expression from the young man. Trying not to grin, Constance takes the extra picture of Harry Potter, to reproduce in mass, along with the button he made. Looking down at the disheveled-haired boy, she shrugs thinking: _Big deal. What’s all the fuss over him?_

After Madeline’s icy return, she spends the remainder of her evening and early morning wrapping up the final touches of enchantments. With Madeline passed out in a chair by the door, Constance can’t help but let her gaze hang on the sleeping redhead. With her hair matted to the side of her face from the hours of attaching each of the five hundred photos to the buttons, Constance was sure her hands were tired and swollen. Looking down at her reproduced Hufflepuff button, the words: ‘SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY—THE REAL HOGWARTS CHAMPION!’ appeared followed by the image of Harry Potter swirls and is replaced by the sickly green words ‘Potter Stinks!’ Laughing, Constance places it into the box of finished buttons and grabs a blanket from the closet, covering Madeline. As she walks through the halls of Slitheryn, she finds the majority of her classmates snoozing away in their respected dorms, except for the few idle hands practicing their dark trades in various corners; the looks of suspicion keep Constance from letting her gaze range too far from her path.

Knocking on the door of Pansy’s room, she pushes it open after no response comes from within. Tossing the large box onto her desk, she departs and finds her room as she left it. Collapsing on her bed, she kicks off her boots and passes out, rather than taking the time to undress.

 

  **Chapter 3: Who…Me?**

 

As December progressed, so did Constance’s studies of Herbology and Charms. Inevitably, she found herself drawn to the front of the class to discuss her personal tribulations from the vast number of places around the world she had been. Many wizard families had never left the islands, to say the least their small towns they grew up in, besides Hogwarts and the London shopping district. This concept seemed unreal to most, and had a hard time conceptualizing or believing her stories. If the facts weren’t backed up by various teachers, she might have been heckled out of class. Due of her extensive knowledge of potions and charms from around the world, Slitheryn might not have accumulated as points as Gryffindor academically. Alas, Constance’s only rival soon became apparent: Miss Granger. The Gryffindor lead know it all, as Pansy put it, was a constant thorn in her boyfriend’s arse, and he couldn’t wait to put the “mud blood” in the grave.

Soon she began to discover there was a word for her type of real world education which she was subjected to since the age of six: Rogue or Gypsy Wizards. Though Professor McGonagall insisted the proper term was Bohemian Wizards, the use of Gypsy told her enough. Most refused to acknowledge her experience, whether or not she had a choice from the beginning. To either spend her life locked up in an insane asylum, or follow the insane antics of the woman who saved her from a life of captivity, seemed like a no-brain decision. The selection for teachers was just as limited, and the emotional tolls were incredible as the unspeakable horrors she endured.

As the hushed talk of “Rogue Wizards” being aligned with deceased Lord Voldemort in the previous war drifted around the room, Professor McGonagall also was quick to stamp out the rumor mill.

“That is completely FALSE! ‘He who must not be named’ wanted everyone to believe he had hundreds of unknown or unregistered wizards at his command; but it turns out his followers were all well known and identifiable wizards in their communities, just deeply protected by lies and deception. That’s the power he wielded: fear. With a mere twist of a few words he made people tremble in needless fear, which only added to his cult. The truth was far more weakening to his cause, and unbelievable for most to handle. It is easier to believe someone unknown from the wizarding world was behind the atrocities he performed than someone just down the street. Lies served his cause all too well.”

Constance felt the words sounded majestic, but went over the heads of most in the class. As she heads to her Magical Creatures class, she notices Susan Bones, a blonde fourth year student like her, bump into her intentionally. Apologizing on her clumsiness, she whispers as she turns to go: “I’m having problems with my Charms. I was wondering if you could help me after dinner…in the main hall of course.”

Chuckling, Constance replies slyly: “Sure thing.” She watches Susan disappear down the corridor as Pansy and her gang approach from the opposite end. Waiting until the gang passes her, Susan pauses to sneak a peek at Constance, without the scrutiny of Pansy’s gang to notice. Constance lets a subtle smile creep across her lips as Susan quickly turns back around smiling, noticing Constance staring at her departure. As Pansy passes Constance a list of reports she needs help writing during the coming week, Constance says to herself: _Things are finally turning around for me_.

  Over the following days, word creeps across the school of a dance on Christmas Day, called the Yule Ball. Oblivious to the giggles and chatter, Constance dismissed the entire affair, knowing all too well that she is not only the last person to be invited, but the likelihood that anyone would ask her to go, or that she could get away with asking who she wanted to, was significantly less than her chances of entering the Tri-wizard tournament and winning without a wand. With that said, she made no effort to send for a dress, or plan to attend in any fashion. As she wraps up her Friday evening study session with Susan Bones and Sara Fawcett, they can’t help but notice Ernie Macmillan, a Hufflepuff Fourth year, nervously waiting for them to conclude. Having spent hours alongside him in various study groups, Constance had been able to form a loose friendship with many outside her house, and was glad some people accepted her for who she was, not the house she belonged to. Giggling between each other, Constance finally understands the chattering and girlish carrying-on her friends are doing. As she closes her books and stands to leave, Constance whispers to Susan, “So which of you do you think is the lucky one?”

Instead of an answer, Susan laughs, and is cut off as he approaches the trio. Nervously, he twitches, shakes and stutters. Swishing away one of his wild long curls from his pudgy face, he squeaks.

“Um…I was wondering…” He clears his throat to be heard better, but does very little. “…I was wondering if you’d like to go with me to the dance? I know its short notice, and you probably been asked already, and I won’t take it hard if you had…that’d be my fault for waiting so long. You’re like the smartest girl I know, and I’d rather go with someone who’s really smart that I can talk to, not just dance around with. I’m not a great dancer, so I can understand if you say no; but I won’t stand you up, or disappoint you.”

He stands nervously swaying left and right as the three girls giggle amongst each other for a minute. Finally as the silence overcome them, Susan and Sara turn to Constance, staring at her. Constance giggles, and looks at them both for an explanation. Reality suddenly falls in her lap, as she gets a dumbfounded expression, and looks to Ernie. This time it’s her voice which fails and she swallows dryly.

“Who…me? You’re kidding right?” Susan and Sara stare at her expectantly. Ernie waits, expecting disaster at any moment. Constance turns to him with wide-eyed terror as she squeaks out her reply.

“Uh…uh…yes? I mean, yes, if that’s what you’re asking.” With a weighty sigh, he smiles sheepishly, and backs away smiling. “Then I’ll see you then!” As Constance tries to warn him of a bench sticking out, Ernie manages to trip backwards, and rebound up laughing. He takes off, cheering, and Constance stumbles back down to the bench, murmuring in a dazed expression: “I don’t have a dress to wear.”

 

The following day after Transfiguration Class, Susan drags Constance up to Professor McGonagall’s  desk. As she looks up to acknowledge the pair, Susan blurts out distressfully:

“Professor! Constance has an emergency, and needs your help!”

Concerned and confused, she looks her over, but sees nothing out of the ordinary on her pale cool skin or expression. Before she can ask, Susan continues.

“You see, she got asked to the ball, but…” Professor McGonagall smiles and congratulates her, and catches up with the rest of Susan’s story, “…she didn’t come with any dresses appropriate to attend. She doesn’t have any family to ask to send her one, and she needs to get somewhere so she can get fitted and have it made in time.”

She shakes her head. “I’m afraid that’s not allowed…she should have made arrangements.”

Susan pleads desperately, “But Professor! No one knew! And she has no one close enough to help her!”

As the professor stands, she chides: “This sounds like a matter to be brought up with your OWN house’s headmaster. Professor Snape is quite…”

Susan cuts her off. “Professor Snape isn’t a girl and HE wouldn’t understand the nature of the emergency here! I’d bring this up with the school Headmaster, but you’re the Deputy Headmaster, so I figured that would be more appropriate. Yes?”

McGonagall, nodding, pauses as she takes in the entire conversation. Wanting to remain impartially stern, she can’t help but understand Constance’s plight. Sighing abruptly, she picks up her bags and departs. As she steps through the doorway, she pauses to say, “I will take this up the Headmaster, and see what his best judgment will be…but that will be final!”

Late in the afternoon, Constance is pulled from the last five minutes of Herbology by Professor McGonagall and ushered into her office. On her desk, a full-length clothes bag lies sealed and dormant. She urges Constance to follow her, and stops at her desk. Wearing a comical smirk, she points at the bag.

“This came for you this afternoon. The Headmaster only just informed me, and I believe it solves your small emergency.”

Constance, shocked and amazed, reaches down and looks at the shipping tag. With her name and address clearly printed, she doesn’t have to read the ‘From’ to know who it is from; the unique printing style of Amelia Bellamy, her long-time teacher and companion, was too obvious.

“Well, go! Take it! And next time, please talk to your house headmaster first.”

Bowing exuberantly, Constance flies from the office with her bag in tow. Crashing into her room, she finally pauses to open the bag, revealing the treasures within. As her jaw trembles in disbelief, she quickly closes it and puts it away. Late that night, as the rest of her roommates are tucked away in bed, Constance sneaks the bag out, and makes sure of the fit. Aware of the exorbitant cost of the dress, she places a magical charm and lock on her closet when she puts it away. Laying back down she can’t stop thinking: _I can’t believe I was asked to the ball._

 

**Chapter 4: Yule Ball**

 

Christmas morning came as it always did for Constance, with artificial fanfare and excitement in abundance. As she woke, everyone around her had mounds of presents in all sizes, shapes and assortments, and with varying degrees of wrapping. Some had the regular wrappings she came to know them…the Muggle’s method…and many with some degree of magical enchantment here and there. From the cards to the ribbon, enchantments ran in all shapes and sizes. From simple Christmas wishes from their families, to explosive celebratory displays resulted from various boxed presents, nothing was out of the ordinary. As the laughs and squeals trail in from the various rooms down her hall, Constance rolls back over in bed and tries to sleep in. After an hour of futile attempts at sleeping, she drags herself up, changes and pulls out the latest Dribbens novel Susan gave her for Christmas. A mystery set in the sleepy village of Dapwich, not unlike the neighboring Hogsmeade, it has an eerie cast over-shadowed by an abandoned magical college. Enthralled by the book, she slips through breakfast, and surrenders to her grumbling stomach by noon. Setting it aside, she crawls out of bed, and stubs her toe on a box at the foot of her bed.

Fighting the urge to scream at Mildrew Darbershrew, a mousy brunette with questionable hygiene, she looks down at a huge label with embellished writing. Four feet tall and 3 feet long and wide, the box is an ambiguous shape, giving no hints to its contents. Turning the large box around and with quite a bit of difficulty, she deciphers the hand writing and reads her name. Unaccustomed to the eloquent and fancy calligraphy, Constance feels embarrassed to have not recognized her name immediately. Lifting the box onto the bed, she carefully looks over the card with her name on it, but cannot find out who it was from. Looking it over once more, she gives up and finds a pair of scissors to cut the fine packaging string keeping the box sealed. After another frustrating search, she returns and liberates the box top. Wrapped in fine packing paper are 7 large satin bags, closed tightly by a small draw string in a bowknot. Untying it and peaking inside, Constance gasps suddenly as she recognizes the contents. Pulling out a black skirt, the cotton-lined wool skirt just barely covers her knee; a relief to her, as her long flowing dress kept getting caught and torn around Hogwarts. Twice in Magical Creatures, she had to extinguish and repair her clothes. Setting that aside, she extracts a black short-sleeved pocketed shirt with red trim, with an accompanying dark red tie tab, matching her shirt. Lastly, she pulls out a pair of black stockings, black socks, and underclothes matching the uniform. Inside the top of the box, a letter walks out using the edges of the letter as legs, opens itself up, and regurgitates a letter for Constance to read. A letter explaining the recent changes in the New England dress code greets Constance warmly and congratulates her for “choosing” to go with their uniform. The letter also covers the wear and wash instructions, as well as an important spell to lengthen and shorten the skirt and shirts as “needed.” Unable to imagine shortening them any further, Constance admits lengthening them would helpful during the colder months.

Reading the letter further reveals she has a total of five sets of uniforms and accessories, in the four other satin bags, and a water-proof cloak, imbedded with bees wax. Inside that bag with the cloak was an optional matching coat/jacket to be worn during special formal occasions, three matching sweaters (the New England School badge was embroidered over the breast of the shirts, sweaters and jackets), and a matching leather backpack. Designed to reduce the content’s weight to a mere tenth of its true weight, Constance knew there would be a jealous mob if anyone knew about it. In the last remaining satin bag, she found several shirts and dresses to wear when not at school. As she takes one last peek inside the box, she sees a brilliant pair of boots to replace the ones she wore, with pointed toes and inch and half tall heels. The heels, as wide as regular heavy boot heels, gave Constance the added stability and traction during her outdoor classes. As tall as her calves and coming almost up to her knee, she decides to wear them that evening; fortunately, also included were a pair of pumps to go with the shorter skirts. Knowing a trip to Hogsmead to order some more shoes for her new dresses was in order, she couldn’t wait to escape from the castle in regular clothes. After feeling jealous of her Hogwarts counterparts, she felt finally vindicated by her new wardrobe.

As the fateful evening approached, Constance had been taking a mild lashing from her fellow Slytherin students for going with a Hufflepuff to the dance, though no one from her house had ANY intention of asking her in his place. Reluctantly, Pansy came to her defense, stating that last small and noticeably apparent fact, making everyone back down on the issue. As with most in the school, house lines were abandoned when it came to dates for the Yule Ball. Just as fast as the fuss started, it ended with as much fanfare, leaving Constance to look forward to an extra special evening. After Pansy and her entourage change into their exquisite gowns, all but a handful are led away by their dates. As they stride out of the Slytherin girl’s dormitories, Constance pauses as all eyes suddenly draw upon her. Momentarily stupefied, she looks down to make sure she didn’t forget put her gown on, or something as horribly embarrassing. Her eyes verify the presence of her black gossamer gown with Veela-spun golden lace covering a low-dipping ‘V’ down the front of her gown; Constance could clearly see the shadow of her belly button through the material. Finishing the outfit off is an expensive pair of onyx slippers; how exactly Amelia got her measurements thoroughly baffled Constance.

Constance gazes across the house’s common room, and sees dozens of eyes resting on her in total amazement. Unsure if there’s a spell on the gown, she hopes it won’t cause as much of a stir at the ball; at the exit of the Slytherin House, she catches Pansy pinching Malfoy playfully, reminding him she’s still with him. Laughing, he leads Pansy and thankfully his ogling cronies as well, away to the ball; though he wouldn’t admit it, Constance was sure Crabbe was still sore from the besting she gave him at the beginning of the year. She knew better than to turn her back on either Crabbe or Goyle, but her closeness to Pansy gave her a berth of protection, a line they wouldn’t cross. As she trails behind Pansy, her eyes fall upon Madeline with her arm wrapped around Donald Flathers, a fifth year Slytherin. Adept at potions and transfigurations, he towered over her. With his slick blonde hair combed straight back and wearing the latest in Wizard dress robes, he made the perfect match for Madeline. With her red hair lightly adorned with tight curls, and her white and gold dress barely touching the floor, she was a dream, especially for Constance. With the ache in her heart returning, she brushes it aside when she hears Crabbe and Goyle chiding someone just outside the door to the Slytherin Dungeons.

Picking up her pace, she pushes past the small laughing crowd, and brings her hands to smack the backs of their heads as she passes between them. As they turn to tear her head off, they pause in a flash of fear and pull away from the hapless student they were tormenting. Standing in front of Constance is Ernie with his hair disheveled and humiliated by the Slytherin menaces. A rose with the stem broken in half lays at his feet, and his expression tells Constance he is having second thoughts on the wisdom of taking her. Before her evening can be quickly ruined, she whips out her wand levitates the rose, and repairs it making it appear new and vibrant once again.

“I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you that it won’t happen, but they are just a bunch moronic asses, who need their butts brutally kicked, and will do this again if given an opportunity. I blame their parents, personally; and I’m afraid they will always be like that.” Ernie pulls himself up, and hesitantly takes the floating flower.

Bluntly he says one word: “Arses.”

Constance steps back unsure of his intent and hides her wand back inside a secret fold in the skirt of her dress. “Excuse Me?” Ernie can’t keep a straight face, and cracks a grin.

“We say ‘arses’ not ‘asses’ here in Britain.”

Dusting himself off, he presents the repaired flower to Constance, who smiles and thanks him. More than relieved, Constance lets him take her arm, and casually walk her to the hall. Ernie finally breaks the silence.

“I…uh…like your dress…err…gown. It’s very…” Constance interjects as he considers the proper words.

“Risqué? Thank you. I’m surprised it got past the Headmasters. I’m told that it is the latest fashion in Paris, but I’ve never been one to follow stuff like that. It feels nice, like a second layer of skin. Got to love magic, huh?”

Ernie can only nod, trying not to stare at the sheer material. Naturally standing over her by four or more inches, her two and half inch heels put her in a better position to enjoy her evening with him. At just a couple of inches over five feet tall, Constance had always looked up to people and she didn’t want to have to strain her neck from looking up at him for the entire evening. As discussions revolved around the who’s-who of Hogwarts, Constance and Ernie eventually fell onto talking about the Tri-Wizard Championships. Constance, aware this might happen, had carefully prepared herself.

“Well, let me say that I’m completely and entirely behind the Hogwarts Champion. With that said, I’m fairly suspicious of the presence of a second Hogwarts Champion; and whether or not this Potter guy put his own name in there or not, I would have to be suspicious of the methods used to pick them now. When you think about it, if a mere fourth year can jinx such a supposedly powerful item, and get around Dumbledork’s magic…come on! Something fishy is going on!”

Smiling Ernie leans closer and replies chidingly playing devil’s advocate.

“He claims to have never put his name in, nor is aware of anyone who might have done it for him. He has proclaimed his innocence from the very beginning, and has never wavered.”

Constance lets out a snorting chuckle.

“Innocent? Yah right! No such monster _innocence_. He’s aware in some sense that someone might do this, or who did do it for him. If he didn’t, he’s an utter moron.” Thinking that she might be a bit rash to judge him she sits and broods for a minute while holding her finger up stopping Ernie from replying. His broad smile shows he had adequately struck a subtle nerve in this unslytherin Slytherin. Constance downs her butter beer, before pushing her spectacles tighter against the bridge of her nose, and dropping her finger to continue where she left off at.

“Okay, maybe I’m a bit cold and cynical towards it all. Fine! I’ll accept the possibility he didn’t do it, or wants to do it; which only brings up a more disturbing question: who did? These crazy tests aren’t a walk in the park! Dragons? Fire-breathing dragons? Come on! That’s insane for a fourth year to take on. I’d be looking at who’s helping him now to get past these tests being the culprit, because he has to be getting an ass…a lot of help from someone! Sorry, my language isn’t very lady-like. I really do fit the part of foul-mouthed Yank, huh?”

Laughing in delight, Ernie downs his butter beer, and smiles warmly.

“I don’t mind it all! This is why I wanted to go with you. I knew I could rely on you being yourself, not this fake person who I just stare nervously at all evening, too afraid to say more than a couple of words to.”    

Constance leans towards him and says, “You haven’t seen me dance yet…I’m sure you’ll reconsider the wisdom of your choice then.”

He does the same by leaning to within inches of her face and says: “I hope those shoes don’t break easily…I will more than likely smash them both with my big two left feet.”

Standing, Ernie stretches and excuses himself momentarily. Losing him in the crowd, Constance stares through the crowds of laughing and joyful crowds and finds herself in awe that she’s one of those people she always picked on and despised. As her eyes flutter around, she sees a gorgeous brunette talking and giggling with a tall Durmstrang student. As she gets a better look at him, her jaw hits the floor seeing Victor Krum rubbing elbows with the Gryffindor know-it-all. A jealous spark lit, as Constance thought: _I bet she’s only talking about fruity brainy things like where he wants to continue his studies or how he feels about this and that. What I’d give to pick his brains on the World Cup Championships._ Distracted, she fails to notice Susan and Sara come up to her table. When Susan speaks, Constance nearly jumps out of her shoes.

“Well, it seems the dark princess isn’t so dark and broody after all.” Nervously, Constance returns her attention back to her table and stands to stretch.

“What can I say? Yah got me. Ernie is great company…I mean date.”

Susan Chuckles uncontrollably. “Wow! Did I just hear you say date? Who’d have thought that would ever happen huh?”

With a half grin Constance, she sticks her tongue at her, and nervously adjusts the top of her dress, ensuring nothing had spilled out or anything. Eyeing Ernie’s reappearance with two more butter beers, Sara nudges Susan.

“I was just stopping in to see how horrible of a time you were having. I don’t want to be a bother, so if you need rescuing, we’ll be over by the fireplace.”

In a humorless laugh, Constance bids them farewell. Her eyes never leave Susan’s face, even after she turned away nervously. The fiery sway of her red hair enthralls Constance, making her jump when Ernie whispers into her ear.

“I know your little secret. I’m not blind. You have a thing for Susan, and she has been denying it since day one. I confronted her about it, and she nearly beat me to a pulp for suggesting it; but it doesn’t change the fact that you have a thing for her.”

Taking a glass from him, they meander around the room as Constance feels bad that she let her guard down and ruined Ernie’s evening. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do this to you.”

Laughing, he sips at his butter beer. “Do what? Be honest? Look I’ve known for a long time about you, and I still wanted to have you as my date tonight! I wasn’t just saying those things. I wanted to enjoy my evening with a friend, and I couldn’t think of anyone better suited to do that with. You didn’t let me down or anything, so don’t go thinking that now.”

“So you’re not upset that I messed up or fouled up things for tonight?”

Ernie shakes his head laughing. “You know for such a brilliant mage, you can be really daft sometimes.”

Mulling around the room, they laugh and exchange witty analyses of mismatched couples, ancient dress robes, or plain ugly ones. Ernie, who had been wondering how she wound up in Slytherin, finally sees the diabolic smile, many in the school had warned him of. A chill runs down his spine as he feels a wave of villainy emanate around her. He tries to lays his hand on her arm, and can feel a black aura covering her, entrapping her, and keeping him from actually getting close to her, pushing him away. Coldness nips at his fingers, causing him to relent and pull away. As suddenly as it came, it dissipates as Constance realizes she let her guard down and let loose the vile spirit confined within her. Unaware of Ernie’s ordeal, she continues chatting and plasters her near emotionless expression onto her face. Noting the experience, Ernie decides to investigate this further during summer holiday, knowing there is more to this simple American girl at Hogwarts.

As the music starts, the pair strolls towards it. Joining Susan, Sara, and their dates, they tear up the dance floor. Other than the occasional nervously waltzed slow-dance, Constance and Ernie remain tied together all evening. Spending the remaining time clustered around a large table carousing and carrying on, they get to spend half an hour talking to the weird sisters before they depart; a rare and priceless experience for the students. Finally leaving the hall just before one in the morning, everyone arrives back to their appropriate dormitories, with shoes and toes intact.

 

**Chapter 5: Rifts**

 

The year strides on and Constance finds her studies leaning towards Charms and Transfigurations. Though already adept at Potions and the Dark Arts, she wanted to expand her skills away from the norm. Even though that meant delving into areas which she was at best average at, she remembers many times with Amelia relying on the simple charms and tricks rather than the more dangerous and often deadly magic associated with the Dark Arts. Able to disarm more advanced and trained foes, Constance held that secret discreetly close to her as Amelia had warned. Foes, believing she was too young or inexperienced to use magic would often turn their back on her, or simply ignore her all together, providing her ample opportunities to hex or disarm them. Pansy couldn’t understand her desire to branch away from Potions if she was so adept at it, and Constance gave up trying to explain it to her. The norm called for all Slytherin to be evil, poison-making mages, with an affinity towards the darker arts of magic. Though she dressed and often fit the part too well, she yearned to be more; and she saw the varied studies of Hogwarts as a ‘once-in-a-lifetime’ opportunity.

  Focusing on her studies, she becomes oblivious of the Tri-Wizard Tournament raging around her. As the second series of tests comes and goes, she finds solace in her studies and her blooming friendships outside Slytherin. Her small study group of six, soon ballooned into fifteen, and even brought two other Slytherin students struggling in Charms. By early June, she saw the fear and imposed segregation of many Slytherin, breaking down in small parts of the student body. To her delight, it took several girls from Ravenclaw to finally convince her roommate Mildrew that she really did have an odor problem, and that it wasn’t just the Slytherins giving her a difficult time. Constance and Susan spent two weeks researching the possible causes and cures and apply a series of tests to isolate the cause and cures. With a simple change in diet and drinking a sweet yet vulgar tasting potion twice a day for a week, the smell was suddenly an old memory. Another side-effect of the potion was her complexion dramatically improving over the weeks which followed, making her acne and scarring to clear up and blend away; the self-confidence boost became obvious as her social skills blossomed. During Professor McGonagall’s class, she finally noticed the lack of offending odor, and forced her to tell who did what to her. After confessing Constance and Susan made her drink a potion which cured her, McGonagall awards five points to Hufflepuff and Slytherin for devotion to public service.

As Constance looked around her, during a Wednesday evening study session, she saw Charlotte Umbria, an adept Slytherin, leading a mixed Potions study group, while both Constance and Mildrew were in their separate groups. As the three of them leave and stride towards the Slytherin dungeons, Constance paused and noticed the both of them had taken positions to her left and right, half a step behind her. A chill runs through her, and she tells them to continue on without her. As they enter the portal without her, she continues on and enters a few minutes behind them alone. As expected, she saw Madelyn snooping behind a large book of Ancient Charms and Incantations, and trying not to appear to be watching for her. With a restrained sigh, Constance closes with Madelyn, and pulls the book down.

“Where’s Pansy?” Her question surprises the conspicuously inconspicuous redhead and she can only sputter out her last location in the girl’s dormitories.

With determination, Constance walks confidently into her pack leader’s corner, and senses what she should have sensed weeks ago, that Pansy was becoming threatened by Constance’s increasing power in Slytherin. Pansy, with her fake smile, greets her, and waits. Constance decides to just suck it up and get it over with.

“I’m sorry.” Taken back, Pansy looks around nervously, unable to make sense of Constance’s tactic. Seeing the confusion, Constance continues further.

“I’m sorry I made the study groups outside of Sytherin without your permission. I just realized this afternoon how it might seem, and I didn’t intend to offend you in any way. I just wanted to improve my studies, and lots Slytherin aren’t very trusting. It’s like a massive horse race around here, and everyone is jockeying for a position, ready to strike down anyone who might get close enough to beat them. I’m not about that, and I didn’t want to or intend to offend you in any way! I just want to do good on my tests; and because everyone is so untrusting around here, I had no choice but to study outside the house. I just forgot to go through you first, and I’m sorry.”

Speechless, Pansy can only say what one would expect, when confronted with such an alien tactic as an apology. 

“Uh…sure. No worries, just don’t let it happen again.”

“Next time I get a wild hair like that, I’ll make sure I run it by you first. And before you ask, I think Mildrew and Charlotte are flocking around me like a gang, but they aren’t. They are just my study buddies. Peace.”

As Constance bows and walks away, everyone stares at each other unsure what just occurred. Knowing this was only a stopper to her problems, she knew a simple apology wouldn’t always work. The problem stemmed from a simple fact that many of Slytherin were selfish and interested only in advancement through the oldest method known to man: backstabbing. The concept of helping those while getting nothing back except personal satisfaction, wouldn’t fly for the majority of Slytherin. Constance figured there were more in Slytherin like her, but they would be reluctant to come forward. Charlotte and Mildrew were just two, and she figured that she might get a dozen total; but what then? That question burned inside her head, and she couldn’t figure out why she was so drawn to her quest. If she got a few more in the lower years, she might become a threat to Pansy, something she desperately wanted to avoid. Pansy had a well defined ego, which wouldn’t stand for insubordination in her ranks; and Constance was becoming acutely aware that she might be walking a very thin line in that regard. As Madelyn slinks by to uselessly report her findings to Pansy, Constance begins plotting her next move to keep the peace.

As the weeks flew by, and the Quidditch field soon resembled a vast garden maze, Constance heard the gossip fly regarding the Potter brat, Krum, and the cute brainiac Granger. Dismissing it, she confirms the stupidity of the event and ignores the building hype. Even as word comes of the death of Cedric Diggory, the first Hogwarts champion, Constance can’t fake her concern but doesn’t dismiss the tragedy of the competition. Confirming the dangerous nature she saw from the very first test, she gets swallowed by the sorrow filling the school from his loss. The horror that the Dark Arts Professor was an imposter, only confirms her suspicions of an insider helping Potter. As she mulls over her options of staying at a various number of magic-friendly youth hostels around Britain and Europe for over the summer holiday, Susan and Sara slide up to either side of Constance and look at the mass of books and brochures Constance is dwelling over. With a restrained grin, Sara is the first to capture Constance’s attention by flipping her blonde curls aside as an attention grabber.

“So you’re going to be a vagabond all holiday?”

Constance sighs. “Well, they won’t let me stay here. They won’t even let their pride and joy Potter brat stay here, so they are kicking me out too; besides, I won’t be a bum, I have regular money, as well as galleons.”

Susan starts flipping through the books and leaflets. “I heard it’s because he has muggle step-parents, so he _has_ a home to go to. You’re special...in a brilliantly cheeky way.” With a half-grin on her face, Constance snatches the leaflet from her.

“Thanks...I think? Somehow that makes me feel much better about it all. They said I can store my things here while I’m away. I don’t need much, and everything I need I can fit in my packs. I can hike up to Scotland, Paris, Berlin, or even Amsterdam. No worries, mate.”

Sara grabs the leaflet from Constance and tosses it onto the table. Pulling out her wand, she casts a entwine hex upon the pile of books and papers, making them tied smartly with brown wrapping twine. Constance flashes her annoyance.

“Hey! I was going to need that!”

Sara shakes her head. “Afraid not. We have something better planned. You are going to be the holiday guest of the Fawcett House this summer. I’m only a short ride from Susan’s estate, so we will ensure you don’t get lost on your way back to Hogwarts.” Handing Constance a parchment signed by Sara’s parents, they take full responsibility over Constance during the summer holidays. Sara and Susan proudly gleam their past month of preparation.

Constance stares at it in disbelief. “I...I don’t know what to say.”

Sara and Susan smile together, and Sara leans over to whisper to Constance. “You don’t have to.”

At dinner on their last night, as Dumbledore tells of Cedric’s death, Constance hears Malfoy mutter to his two goons Crabbe and Goyle, “Cedric got what was coming to him, as will Potter. Mark my words.”

A spark ignites, lighting a path for Constance. As the school rises to salute Potter, Constance also stands while Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, and a few of her flock stay sitting. With a subtle gesture of Constance’s hand, she motions for Mildrew and Charlotte to remain sitting, while she stands with the class as a whole. Though she doesn’t raise her glass as they do, she stands in between the Slytherins; not entirely with them, but not against them.

As Constance boards a southbound train with Susan and Sara, her mind is not filled with laughs and adventures to come, but of turmoil and treachery; a kind of loyal treachery no one at Hogwarts will see coming.


	2. Part II – Coming of the Phoenix

 

**Chapter 6: Umbridge**

 

For most of the summer, Constance drifted between Susan and Sara’s homes, enjoying the warm summer days and nights with her best friends. As the summer drew towards a crescendo, so did Constance and Susan. Though never more than a fanciful look or smile, the pair was being drawn together and it was becoming apparent enough for Sara to notice. Not sharing the attraction the two had for each other, Sara chose to help rather than hinder their budding fondness, and often would slip into an advisory position when trying to get them to discuss their feelings towards the other. By the time they were heading back to Hogwarts, the most she had got them to admit, was that they “really” liked each other; with both of them too shy or scared to say the real word for what they felt.

As with the rest of the student body found their appropriate house table, Constance hunkered down with the Slytherins as the sorting hat weaves his usually ominous song, held together with sticky wisdom. As it gets into describing the divisions which each house clearly exhibited today, it called upon a binding strength to unite the houses for the coming storm. A storm which Constance knew had everything to do with the return of Lord Voldemort, and less to do with the Potter brat and the headmaster. As the sorting hat finishes, Constance can’t help but feel it was talking to her more than anyone else, especially as she conspires to gather her allies across the houses. With her pair of conspirators in Slytherin, and her two best friends in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, she knew more would be needed to circumvent a war between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Unwilling to accept the supremacist views of Slytherin, and the anti-Slytherin banner of Gryffindor, she felt it would eventually fall upon her to take sides. Praying it would be put off as late as possible, she needed time to prepare and grease the wheels of progress. With Pansy and Malfoy as Prefects, she saw things could only get worse fast.

As she burns into the school year along with the rest of the class, she immediately discovers the new professor of the Defense of the Dark Arts Umbridge and her were only going to butt heads. Due to her untraditional background, Professor Umbridge felt Constance neither belonged in her class nor ‘her’ school. Only after the Dumbledore pointed out the Foreign Exchange Student Act prohibited isolating a student based on their family’s background, ethnic origin, or apparent age, did she relent. What helped considerably, was when Constance’s assurance that she had no interest in pursuing employment within the area upon graduation. Any truth serum would have clearly proven she intended to return to one of the colonies; but when she willingly dropped Umbridge’s class, the matter seemed to matter little afterwards. With Professor Snape’s approval, she wound up serving as his assistant teacher for the hour which she would have spent with Umbridge. Though she couldn’t stand his intense annoyance towards the Gryffindor’s, she proved a valuable aide in ensuring the third years didn’t blow up anymore of his workbenches.

It was during his hour which Constance had her first of many epiphanies. As he flashed his usual disdain for Gryffindor’s and the rest of the Slytherins reveled in the embarrassment of their rival house, Constance realized if she didn’t take up the torch, she would soon become an outcast within her own house. This could eventually extend to the rest of the houses, but she would have to confront that dilemma when it reared up. Though a long private talk with Susan and Sara was soon in order; until then she’d have to advance her cause delicately through the school, while avoiding the Gryffindor’s. As the teacher’s aide, she was put in a unique position to see who in the school actually had potential, and could aide them appropriately. To her surprise by the first week, she had a dozen more confederates added to her ranks. Applying firm and steady pressure, tempered with guidance and the occasional hint, the youngsters were soon looking up to her for advice and counsel.

On the First Saturday, Pansy dragged her and the gang along to pester the Gryffindor’s training session on the Quidditch field with the boys. The youngest Weasley boy, Ron, struggled with the sport, and Constance questioned more than once WHY he was even on their team. With his addition, Slytherin victory this year was practically handed to them, making this afternoon a complete waste of her time. Malfoy’s obsession with the Potter brat, made her wonder if he was repressing some underlying attractions towards him, leading her to question his sexual orientation all together. The entire train of thought kept her adequately amused until the end of their practice session, and she was released to knockout her homework. Laughing not from the horrible display of Quidditchtry but her imaginative spirit; she kept herself happily entertained, while keeping her peers pleased with her servitude. With an essay on self-fertilizing shrubbery due Monday, she marches back to her room mentally organizing the paper, and preparing some well chosen points.

Entering the common area of Slytherin, a pair of fourth years immediately intercept Pansy, and ask if she had any time to spare to assist them in their homework. Dismissing them, she shoots them an annoying glance and points towards Constance. Dodging any further responsibility, Pansy tells them Constance is “now in charge of all tutoring” and steals herself away with Malfoy. Rolling her eyes, Constance motions to follow her to the courtyard. With no one in earshot, she sits them down, instructing them to open their books to the appropriate sections, and show her where they are at. With the scene properly dressed, she is the first to whisper.

“Great work you two. Now I don’t need an excuse to meet with any of you all. Mildrew, have you the list of hopefuls?”

Nodding she extracts a parchment from her pocket and hands it to Constance. Breezing through the list, she takes out a ball-point pen and crosses out three names. The pen, a rare prohibited item in Hogwarts, would be confiscated if found; and worse if used to complete any piece of homework. Tucked safely away in a magical compartment in her cloak, Constance loved flashing the illegal item, now and then.

“No Gryffindors. When push comes to shove, they’ll eventually align with that Potter kid; and won’t hesitate selling us out, leaving us hanging high and dry. Other than that, this is fine. Hopefully two or more on our list will make prefect next year, and we will have some considerable strength.”

A fleeting smile crosses Charlotte’s lips. “Perhaps you’ll make Prefect next year as well!”

With a rough chuckle, Constance dismisses the thought. “Not likely, I’m not a regular student, remember? If I worm my way into another teacher’s aide position, I’ll be happy. Snape, though tyrannically cold and crisply edgy, reluctantly accepted me this year as an assistant; I think it was only to piss off Umbridge. He can’t stand her either, and detests her presence in the school, as do most. My only advice: stay on her good side at all times! There’s something I don’t like about her, and I can’t put my finger on it. She reminds me of one of my teachers in Australia. That toad better pray I don’t run into him when I get done here! Azkaban or not, his hide is mine.”

They flash each other worrisome glances, and then back to her. Sighing dramatically, she tries to dismiss her escape of emotion, and turns her nose back to the books laid out in front of her. Spending another half hour in mock tutorial mode, she smiles meekly as they break up, and she returns to her room to knock out an essay. Passing the main dining hall, she comes across Sara and Susan knocking out their Charms essays, and chitchats for an hour. Sticking around for supper, she laughs and jokes about the summer; until finally surrenders to the homework waiting in her room. By midnight she sets her quill aside, and wanders to her bed, passing out face first.

Word of the recent educational decrees, kept Constance on her guard, and took Professor Snape’s advice to sit out his two hour potions class when Professor Umbridge decided to sit in and evaluate it. Fortunately it gave her ample time to finish her work from Charms and Herbology, and freed up her evenings to tutor in the main hall with Susan and Sara. Leading a potions class on the side, she helped a small group of second years, as Snape’s method of teaching-down to non-Slytherins took its toll. Noting mostly Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, she glances sideways as Susan smiles admiringly at Constance’s devotion to the younger students. Returning the smile, she fails to notice a pink and flowery menace approach, causing the students to cringe and scatter. Seeing Susan’s face turn to a horrid shade of white, Constance bites her lower lip to keep from growling at the professor.

Umbridge, with her clipboard in hand jots a note down, and looks down menacingly on Constance sitting on the floor in her short skirt. Though within New England regulations, it was two inches shorter than Hogwart’s. As she wants to write her up for detention, she seethes out a different tune.

“So, trying to form an illegal organization on school grounds are we?”

Constance’s evilly toothy grin escapes her, and she hisses out a respectful reply.

“Nope. I was trying to see how many I could fit into a cauldron so I could cook’em! Now I’ll have to go out and trap’em all over again using sweets as bait. I wasn’t aware it was ‘illegal’ to offer tutoring to those who were in need?”

Taken back initially by the evil aura she flashed, Umbridge seemed to fight it off after a few moments and compose herself.

“In the past, the headmasters took too many liberties by allowing foreigners to study here. The ministry is looking into the effects your kind are having on our students. These children must be protected from foreign influence!”

The derogatory tone Professor Umbridge took with Constance finally tweaked her last nerve. Standing in a single blur of motion, Constance stands face to face with the vile flowery woman. Stunned and scared, Umbridge jumps back fearing trouble, and quickly goes to her wand; and as Constance reflexively starts to go for hers in defense, a meek figure suddenly appears, barring her. Professor McGonagall steps in front of Constance and goes nose to nose against Umbridge as Constance growls angrily; Susan and Sara drag her out of the way and out of shouting range.

“Delores! How dare you attack a student! I saw you going for your wand!”

“Listen here Minerva! Creatures like that will be barred from attending Hogwarts now on! The ministry will see to it!”

Storming away, Umbridge doesn’t look back, and Constance shakes off her anger, as Susan talks her down calmly. Frustrated, Professor McGonagall spins away leaving everyone shell-shocked and speechless.

Seeing that her tutoring class had been summarily disbanded, Constance tries to blow it off, but settles for some milk and cookies. Unsure what the morning will bring, she tells her friends goodnight and trudges up to her room, changes, and collapses in her bed. Swept with dreams of giants and trolls attacking from all corners, she sleeps fitfully.

 

**Chapter 7: Armies Massing**

 

Sitting at the Slytherin table, Constance plows through her porridge and enjoys the thick aroma of vegemite on two pieces of toast. Reading the latest issue of the Quibler, she can’t wait for the weekend to arrive so she can resupply her sweets cabinet, and purchase a few more pairs of tights and long socks for the coming winter. Having endured the previous year in long robes and dresses, she was too well insulated to be aware of how cold her legs could get. With her shorter skirts, she was now keenly aware of the nippy temperatures, and wisely imagined investing in a few more. Flipping through the pages, she hardly notices the arrival of her Slytherin gang who sit on either side of her. Mildrew, unimpressed with Constance’s reading selection sighs dramatically grabbing her elder’s attention from the paper. Constance replies flatly to her two cohorts.

“You know, I felt the same way when I first read the Quibler. I didn’t see the point in the garbage and senseless references to non-existing creatures. Then one day, it occurred to me that if I wanted to make snide comments and derogatory statements about a virtually tyrannical government, this would be the way to do it. It’s not easy to figure out who he’s talking about most of the time; but when I occasionally do, I realize how amazing it is he hasn’t been shut down by the ministry. This guy is a genius, and probably only a minute few realize it. For instance, the Quibler insists Cornelius Fudge has an army of Heliopaths at his disposal…”

In a chiding tone Charlotte bays out, “What are Heliopaths?”

Mildrew laughs. “Some mythical fire giants or something.”

Constance shoos them to be quiet. “…anyways, I took that as complete garbage until I saw him use another reference to Heliopaths in another story about someone else, a reporter I think, “riding one.” You see? Heliopaths are just another name for something else, that he dare not say openly or he might get arrested for heresy, or just pissing off Fudge, or the ministry. I think Heliopaths are just another name for political spin-doctors, who warp the truth and dictate what’s printed in the official ministry papers.”

Charlotte is the first to start putting things together. “So…he has a lot of people altering the truth in the Daily Prophet?”

Unconvinced, Mildrew thumbs through the paper stopping on breeding levels of the Grassy Barksniggles and Foomongers. With a mischievous grin Constance continues.

“Ah! Yah, this one took me the longest to figure out. I still don’t know who he’s referencing, but he warns of the growing numbers of one, but neutrally mentions the numbers of the other. These are secret organizations and the membership numbers of the groups; which groups I have no idea. He openly warns that the Barksniggles have dangerously high breeding numbers this year, while the Foomongers are elevated as well. He’s openly telling the public to beware of this group, because it is getting higher membership numbers while mentioning another group…possibly it antecedent…is also growing in numbers as well. I won’t lie to you two, this stuff is a bit over my head; but it’s starting to make sense. All of this is presented in a completely wonky insane manner that no sane person would take serious; and no court could dare try and prosecute someone with this evidence. You see the genius at work here? He’s posting the truth in fictitious terms and references, to protect his sources, while letting his wise audience know about the real truth the Daily Prophet can’t or won’t print.”

Still unconvinced due to years of chiding by the wizarding world, Charlotte and Mildrew take it with a grain of salt, and eat breakfast alongside their mentor. As they break up for the day, Charlotte borrows the Quibler to peruse, attempting to see what Constance sees. Constance meanders through the Slytherin Dungeon helping the lower classes, and Professor Snape and McGonagall appear and pull her aside. Professor Snape drones out his displeasure first.

“First, whenever you have a disagreement with another professor, you are to come to your respective house teacher! I might be able to talk to them, and come to an amicable solution.”

Professor McGonagall quickly follows him up. “Precisely! In this case though, it had to be taken up with the Headmaster and the Ministry. The Foreign Student Act of 1902 isn’t something which can just be altered by the Ministry of Magic, like some professors believe. It’s an international accord, which took years to debate, just to come to a singular agreement for ALL countries involved. To alter any part of it, threatens the education and membership of key British students around the world. As both an American and Australian resident, you have dual student status, affording you protection not from one, but two powerful nations. Furthermore, your extensive knowledge in potions and being Professor Snape’s aide, affords you the right to be an authorized tutor for potions. I only ask you keep it in well ventilated and vacant areas, when not covering academic areas.”

Snape gets the last word. “With all that said, it is apparent that Professor Umbridge has a strong dislike towards you, so she might go to extraordinary means to get you dispelled. From now on, any and all encounters are to be reported to me FIRST, or Professor McGonagall. Is that understood?” His characteristic emphasis in his tone, gets a polite and gracious ‘yes professors’ from Constance before they both disappear back to their offices.

After an exhausting morning of tutoring in Slytherin, she meanders to Hogsmeade to buy five more sets of warm stockings, tights, long socks, and refilling her backpack of sweets for the long winter ahead. After talking to several third and fourth years whom she’d tutored, they thanked her profusely and convinced her to join them in a butterbeer before returning to school. Though most were Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, three were Slytherin and a lone Gryffindor braved being seen with them all. Sitting between two large tables, they spent an hour talking and carrying on, until finally Constance had to excuse herself. Though she enjoyed their company, she was acutely aware that Pansy and her beehive would find it offending that she hung out with non-Slytherins. Wrestling that thought, she meanders back to the castle running into Sara along the path running up behind her, she jumps when Constance surprises her by calling out her name.

Pulling her off the path, and out of both sight and sound of prying ears and eyes, she whispers fearing the worst.

“It’s begun. Potter is forming a group. Right now it’s just teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. I saw quite a few from Gryffindor go, but there were Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs there as well.”

Constance, concerned by the turn of events, broods on her next move. Making sure no one is in earshot, she buzzes around Sara mulling over her next step.

“You were there? No way they could have been pulling your leg, or setting us up?”

Susan shakes her head no, as she watches Constance pacing in front of her like a cat.

“I didn’t attend…a friend of mine only heard about it, Seamus Finnigan, and I secretly followed him.

She stops and brings her face within inches of Sara; Susan cannot help but smell the butterbeer lingering on Constance’s breath as she whispers.

“Okay, see if any of our lower class students are up to the task of infiltrating this group. You and Susan are too close to me, and would get too much attention if either if you tried. Anyone from Slytherin would be an obvious plant, so it will be dangerous.”

After Sara acknowledges her, she motions to leave first, and Constance waits several minutes before emerging back onto the path. With the turn of events, her plans of a restful night’s sleep were just a far away memory.

Spending the next week in heavy study and tutoring, Constance slowly sets the Harry Potter problem aside and puts her school work in front of her. With no updates, Constance refused to dwell on the lack of intelligence coming to her. As the days stretch out to weeks, then months, Constance endures Umbridge’s failed attempts to remove her, and makes it to the holiday break. Joining Sara’s family for Christmas, she spends her time laughing, singing, and spending every available moment with Susan. It was during a late night sleep-in, which she and Susan shared their first kiss under mistletoe, and it as magical as she had always imagined it would be. As if a weight had been removed from her life, Constance was finally becoming aware that she was feeling more than just friends with Susan, and was becoming to fear the ridicule it could bring on her and Susan. Though Susan seemed open to the relationship, Constance couldn’t commit herself to the attachment.  Fear, stopped her in her tracks, and she decided to cool her heels until the summer holiday. Justifying that it would give her more time than just a couple of weeks and the trouble with Umbridge should blow over by then, she confidently rationalizes her decision and puts her heart on hold.

A simple explanation of the facts was meant to put Susan at ease, and share Constance’s fears and rationale behind cooling down their relationship back to just best friends. Unfortunately, it was apparent Susan was far more interested in taking the friendship to the next level; but Constance feared the backlash it could bring to their friendships both between them, and those at the school. Though protecting Susan was the priority, Constance managed to fumble her words just enough to plant an icy wall between them for the remainder of the holidays.   

 

**Chapter 8: Finales**

 

The return to Hogwarts wasn’t as eventfully inspiring as Constance had hoped. The educational decrees resumed a couple of weeks into January after a mass breakout from Azkaban, leaving the student body buzzing, despite the decree forbidding it. It became obvious to Constance the Ministry of Magic was losing control of the situation by issuing the decrees as a last chance stop gap to the situation. Worse, Umbridge was zealously pursuing rules infractions like it was the resumption of the Dark Ages. Though Constance had received word that no one could talk about the Potter group, Umbridge had somehow caught on he was gathering a small number of students together illegally. 

By February, Quidditch resumed with a defeat of Gryffindor by Hufflepuff by ten points. Constance had hoped the games would disrupt the illegal activity of Potter, but it only seemed to fuel them on. Umbridge soon had her spies all over the school trying to discover their whereabouts, but was only becoming frustrated as the weeks wore on. Though Pansy tried to get Umbridge to recruit Constance into helping them find the Potter group, her hatred and distrust for Constance kept her on the sidelines. By the end of March, Potter’s group was exposed, and Constance discovered that her informant was Susan all along. Hurt, she tries to apologize, but Susan is confined to detention with the rest of “Dumbledore’s Army” as they called themselves. With Dumbledore’s sacking, Umbridge is given full run of the establishment and the school descends into the Dark Ages completely with regular torture sessions; an air of oppression descends, suffocating the school. Though Susan was well insulated by her Aunt’s position in the ministry, she did suffer some under the Blood Quill. Though she accepted Constance’s apology, she didn’t fully forgive her for the previous holidays.

With the O.W.L.s approaching, Umbridge reluctantly offered to allow Constance the opportunity to take them, though she was a foreign student. Many precedents existed to allow her; and with Snape and McGonagall directly citing them behind closed doors, Umbridge had little choice. So as the year progressed, Constance worked alongside her friends preparing for the tests, and things slowly resembled the norm. And though Gryffindor somehow pulled out a successful win against Ravenclaw for the championship, the school stepped up preparations for OWLs. The week of testing, brought the natural stresses accustomed to students, and for once, Constance seemed to mesh with her classmates, and helped to integrate her with the school once and for all.

As the year ended, the revelation that the Lord Voldemort had truly returned became a reality, ending Umbridge’s reign, and returning Dumbledore as the Headmaster. The last day, brought some relief from the studies and work, allowing Constance, Susan, and Sara to sit alongside the banks of the lake as the underclass students frolicked and played with the giant octopus. Wearing a special lotion from Herbology to protect her light sensitive skin, Constance had donned her one-piece bathing suit to at least try and fit in. For the first time in ages, she felt that she no longer stood out or alone from the crowd. With her secret gang of underclass students playing and laughing in the water, she felt she had weathered the year quite well. Amassing thirty-three students from the various houses, she had reluctantly included two from Gryffindor because their loyalty was without question according to the other students and Sara. Noticing Constance brooding over the students playing in the water, Susan and Sara lean over, and Susan rubs Constance’s back worriedly. Constance sighs dramatically before answering.

 “We did it in the nick of time, without getting caught by Umbridge, and before the Dark Lord returned.”

Nodding, Sara asks meekly, “Thirty-three…only thirty-three. Is it enough?”

Susan replies almost immediately. “Over half of them are a year behind us, and the rest are phenomenally adept for students their age. ALL of them are loyal to the school, and to what we stand for; the Lion Guard is born. The D.A. had at most twenty-nine, and got caught. I think we’re doing extraordinarily better.”

Sara asks yet again. “I mean we’re not ready yet. Most have no real combat training, and the Dark Lord is already here.”

Nodding, Susan counters. “Yes, but we have three things going for us. One, we have all the houses in our group, not excluding anyone. Two, we have Constance to train us, who’s at least ten times better than that Potter brat. And last but not least, I know how we can train everyone, without drawing undo attention.”  


	3. Part III – Half-Blood Rising

 

**Chapter 9: The Room of Requirement**

 

The summer holidays didn’t go as pleasant as expected or hoped. A few weeks into the holiday, Susan’s aunt Amelia was found murdered, leaving Susan vacant and distraught. With little news from either the magical or Muggle world, it was generally accepted she was killed by the Lord Voldemort. Unable to keep their attachment a secret, Constance and Susan became inseparably close, never leaving either’s side. For weeks, Susan would burst in tears and want to be held by Constance, who obliged. As the weeks became months, Susan replaced her tears with raw anger and determination. Though not using their wands, Constance spent every available hour training Susan and Sara on counter-spells and techniques to defend themselves, to eventually teach the younger students of their Lion Guard.

As the holiday marched on, word finally arrived with their O.W.L.s results, doing little to improve everyone’s mood. With both Susan and Sara making six “Outstanding” grades, Constance was left speechless discovering she made a total of eight. Though the rest were “Acceptable” except for her one “E” in the Study of Ancient Runes, Sara fared better than both of them in that regard, by receiving only two “A’s”. Comparing their results, they spend weeks planning their schedules, and what to take for their N.E.W.T.s. Though Constance qualified for both potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts, she felt it was too expected of her to do so, and chose Care of Magical Creatures instead.

Though she didn’t apply, she received an owl stating she was recommended by Professor Snape to teach a remedial Potions class for students who failed potions and sought to try and pass it again. Designed to prepare students to pass the N.E.W.T.s, it was Susan who blatantly pointed out that meant he felt she was ready to take the N.E.W.T.s. One drawback to accepting the class was that she had to arrive to Hogwarts a week early to prepare, and another was that she was given a new position called “Teacher’s Aide.” Directly under the Potions teacher, her duties would be limited to teaching certain underclass students and those who required more study in order to pass the O.W.L.s with a substantially improved score to continue study for the N.E.W.T.s. Though technically this was a paid staff position, she wouldn’t receive any pay, just teaching experience and time to hone her skills to take the N.E.W.T.s.

Inspired, Susan and Sara try to enthuse Constance with all the pros, while hiding the cons discreetly away. The holidays seemed to spin-by uncontrollably, and the standard trip to buy the coming year’s books came too quickly. With their books and schedules planned, Constance bid her best friends farewell and departed early in the morning of the twenty-sixth, and arrived promptly at a quarter past 7 at the Ministry of Magic. After showing her letter to arrive at Hogwarts one week early by Headmaster Dumbledore, the trip to the school via the Floo network deposited her with an hour to spare. Stopping by her room to deposit her trunk of books, clothes, and supplies for the long year ahead, she strides up to Professor Snape’s office and knocks. With no answer, she heads to the Headmaster’s office, and announces herself to the stone door guard.

Waiting patiently, she looks over her long black skirt, matching vest and white short-sleeved shirt. Casting a refreshment spell over her clothes, they spring back to life with a crisp flowery scent of roses and lavender surrounding her. Minutes later, the stone guardian begins rotating and she hears footsteps coming down rapidly. Stepping aside, she bows as the characteristic stride and robes of her potions master Professor Snape, hurriedly leaves the private offices of the school’s headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. Without seeing his face, she knows she surprised him by the minute change of step and quake of surprise. In his usual demeanor, he drones his hidden surprise.

“Ah, Miss Hollander, I see you arrived already. The Professor will see you now.”

Standing erect, Constance smiles meekly. “Thank you professor. Afterwards I’ll find you, so I can get your rules and requirements for the class.”

His sudden intake of air stops her mid-bow.

“That will not be necessary, as I am _not_ the potions teacher anymore, and that is why you are teaching the remedial class. I’ve been made the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, and the headmaster will explain everything you need to know.”

With a focused smile, Constance interjects at him he turns to leave, while continuing her gracious bow.

“Congratulations Professor! A well overdue honor in deed.”

Professor Snape pauses noticeably, taken back by her honestly and graciously toned comment.

“Yes, in deed.” In a spinning ruffle of black robes, he turns and strides away.

Constance pauses for only a moment before rushing up the stairs to the waiting headmaster. Before she can reach the top of the stairs, the stairs are already closing behind her, and she clears it with mere seconds to spare. Behind his desk, Headmaster and Professor Albus Dumbledore scribbles a note with his left hand, while keeping his right, on his lap. Constance bows once and waits for him to acknowledge her. With his gaze on the note, he speaks plainly.    

“A _well overdue honor_ , is it?”

Constance relaxes slightly and cocks her head smiling.

“I was being respectful. It’s a well-known fact he’s been trying for the position for a long time now. So if he’s not the potions teacher, who will I be taking my instructions from?”

The headmaster looks from his table, and sets down his quill. “Professor Slughorn will be returning as the new potions professor, and he will technically be heading up the department. As for your Remedial Potions class, I will get you set up, and Professor Snape will ensure you are ready to take your N.E.W.T.s this coming Friday. You will travel with four others who are applying for Out-of-Cycle testing, and return to the school afterwards. This will give you accreditation for teaching the class, in case any parents have a problem with your age and not being a professor.”

As the headmaster drones on stating the schedule and requirements, the hair on the back of Constance’s neck suddenly stands erect, and she subtly slides her hand into her vest and grasps the handle of her wand. In the middle of the Headmaster’s sentence, he jumps up out of his seat and points his wand at Constance while casting a spell at her. Driven by instinct alone, she begins casting a counter spell and releases a water blast at him as he sends a stream of sand at her. Creating a huge whirlwind of brown water, he maintains the spell, trying to overcome her water spell. After a minute, a bead of sweat trickles down her forehead as the strain begins to have an effect on the young pupil. Releasing the spell, Dumbledore immediately sends the contents of his room whirling towards her with a swish of his wand, only to have Constance magically grab objects of her own, to intercept them. Smashing and crashing against each other, Constance focuses on the headmaster and animates a pair of stone gargoyles on the floor to attack him as she prepares a final spell to end it. With no surprise the gargoyles explode into tiny pebbles just as she blasts the wand from his hand. Panting she holds her wand at the ready, as the headmaster laughs jovially.

“I believe you are ready to take the Defense Against the Dark Arts test as well, but I fear that the ministry might give you undo attention. If the Ministry of Magic’s confidentiality is compromised, having too much skill may result in harm to you and your plans. Tea? Have a seat.”

Still breathing heavily, Constance surveys the damage around her and shakes her head in disbelief.

“Yes…please, Headmaster. Thank you.”

Sitting, he pours them both a cup and looks at her with a serious expression. “And how is your small and previously illegal club coming along? I understand you have accumulated a small following.”

Gritting her teeth, she nods before replying.

“The Lion Guard? We’re a few dozen strong, with members from all the houses, as YOU had requested. At first I was reluctant to take anyone from Gryffindor, but as it turns out the few we have are serious about our ethos as we are. It actually just fell together, it was amazing. As for the Slytherin, I like to think I got to them early, before the real nasty stuff could take root. Oh, most are ambitious, self-serving, and would knife each other in a dark alley any time, if given the opportunity; but they have all come to realize that if the dark wizard returns to power, he will bring his idea of order. History shows what he WILL do if he comes to power, so they are motivated to make sure he doesn’t screw with our school. A few have some seriously dysfunctional parents; but a rebellious child who doesn’t want to walk in mom or dad’s footsteps, makes my job easy. Some have parents who are old supporters of him, and they EXPECT their children to naturally support him when he returns. Boy, are they in for a surprise! We had several meetings where not a single spell was mentioned or used, nor was schoolwork or classes. I had brought in two kegs of butter beer, and we all just sat around talking for two hours. Most were too afraid to open up, but slowly they started coming out of their shells, and started talking to one another. By the end of the night, we were going on about National Quidditch Championships, cricket, football amongst the muggle-borns, movies, dating, it was like the houses ceased to exist in that room.”

The headmaster ponders over her words.

“If things do get bad, and I’m no longer around to hinder it, you will take command of them, and go into hiding like when I was gone last year. Wait for the moment to present itself, and then act. If you come out of hiding prematurely, all your efforts will be for naught. The dark wizard has many uncouth individuals who would make your old master Sylver seem like a saint. He might assign them here in the school to have free reign due to their loyalty over the years; so bide your time and tongue as best you can, and don’t act until the proper moment presents itself. Professor Snape and McGonagall have my list of things to do if anything happens to me suddenly, so you won’t have anything to worry about when the time comes.”

Constance nods, absorbing as much as she can. After a few minutes of quiet reflection, Constance breaks the silence.

“N.E.W.T.s huh? Boy will Susan and Sarah be surprised.”

The Headmaster looks up from his desk, and gazes deeply into Constance’s spectacled eyes.

“I’m happy that you have found close friends here. A far cry from how you first arrived.”

Constance nods solemnly.  

“What are your instructions regarding Potter and his gang?”

Dumbledore ponders the question far longer than she imagined. He takes two long sips at his tea before finally replying.

“It’s probably best you stay out of their way and remain loyal to your houses for now. As for yourself, you’ve done a superb job already, so there’s no point in breaking away from Slytherin anytime soon. Do your best in appeasing the whims of you-know-who without pledging your undying loyalty, remain true to your heart, and you should weather this without too much trouble afterwards. Professor McGonagall has securely hidden a letter detailing your mission signed by both of us. It should help keep you out of permanent internment in Azkaban when all this is over.”

Nodding, Constance sighs and sips at the steaming blend. “You heard about Sarah’s aunt then?”

“Amelia Bones? Yes, I’m afraid so. The Dark Wizard had an old score to settle, and she is just the first of many to come. Be careful how you tread, there are many who will welcome him, and will be working directly or indirectly for him in Hogwarts. You’re a very bright and brave child, so I don’t have to advise you on what to expect should things turn really bad. Keep Susan close to you should darkness fall upon the school…I fear for the safety of most of the children whose parents actively oppose his return.”

Constance can only nod hearing his last words. She finishes her tea in silence, and bows once before leaving. Wandering the halls, she pauses as a blank wall suddenly forms a door before her eyes. Remembering Susan’s directions, she waits until the door is fully formed before entering. Mentally accounting and cataloguing the various equipment for training wizards, she paces the room for ten minutes making sure she missed nothing, and leaves. Mildly impressed, she begins imagining the importance this find could mean. With the possibilities running amok in her mind, she gravitates back to her room to study for her N.E.W.T.s.

 

The trip to London via the Floo Network, though uneventful, still amazed Constance; the spectacle of the Ministry of Magic left her dumbfounded on its grandeur and majesty. Greeted by a Ministry representative, a rather boyish short blonde-haired man in his early twenties, not much taller than Constance for that matter, dryly nods, and motions for all to follow. With an air of distinction, many move aside as he approaches and make way for him and his charges. The group of five young student teachers are escorted down an elevator, and are led a long obsidian corridor to an innocuous door marked as 653. Opening the door, the young man motions for them to enter and follows as Constance pulls up the rear.

Inside, four aged ministry testers await them each specialized in a particular area of study. Taking two of the lead student professors, the first official leads them out the room to another testing area to administer Herbology NEWTS. At the rear, Constance has to wait for each of the others to be led away until finally a meek and miserably greasy man stands before her. Several inches shorter, he glares menacingly at her. Unimpressed with Constance’s attire, he motions to follow and hurriedly departs uncaring if she follows. Buzzing through the door and down the hall, Constance perceives a cold and angry man, too similar to Sylver’s vile disposition. Passing through an open door, he barely lets her pass through the threshold before magically slamming the door closed. With a gruesome wheeze and scowl, he turns and spits.

“Let us begin.”

 

After a long and exhausting morning of testing, the five students returned to Hogwarts disheveled and weary to the bone. Walking like zombies, they return to their rooms or wander into the great hall for a quick lunch, most unsure of how they fared. Constance, no different than her companions, knew she passed; but without definitive proof, she was apprehensive to declare her victory.

 

**Chapter 10: Broodings and Silky Smiles**

 

Joining her house at their table, Constance eats, and celebrates alongside her Slytherin friends and secret allies. Placing half a baked chicken on her plate, she levitates a portion of bangers and mash alongside it. Taking out her wand and pointing to her plate of food, she whispers: “Unus sectum seorsuma.” A minute sliver of light erupts on the chicken and slowly drifts over the meat in a specific pattern, cleaving the meat neatly off the bone into bite-size pieces. After three minutes, the chicken bones are laying naked on the plate with the meat neatly surrounding it. Nosing over Constance’s shoulder, Mildrew eyes the handiwork of the foreign spell and asks of its origins, but gets a bland explanation instead.

“I picked it up a few years ago on the road. It cuts your food into bite-size pieces and doesn’t even scrape the bone. It’s also useful against vermin, but I’ve never developed it into a useful spell against people…never had the malicious soul for it, I guess. If you do try to use it against a person, it just pierces the skin like a needle, about an inch deep then fizzles out. Whoever does develop it into a spell against people would have to have a really dark heart.”

Impressed, Mildrew returns to her dinner, and Constance solemnly consumes her dinner. To Constance’s surprise, Madeline, the brilliant and beautiful Slytherin redhead abruptly sits down besides her, and waits for her to finish chewing.

“Pansy wants you to run some errands for her into town. She says to get with her after the first-years are settled in.”

Nodding, Constance takes another bite of her chicken and a carrot slice. Chewing it and washing it down with a huge swallow of juice, Constance asks bluntly: “AND? Why else would you still be sitting next to the house freak, if there weren’t more?”

Momentarily taken back, Madeline retaliates with her usual ferocity.

“I never called you a freak…at least not to your face! I never saw what Pansy saw in you, back when you first showed up; and now, well, I do.”

Leaning closer to Constance, she continues in a private whisper.

“You’re a powerful witch, who has accumulated a greater following than Malfoy and Potter combined! I have no idea if you are working for the Dark Lord or your own secret master, but I’d be willing to wager that whoever it is, you aren’t some little prawn.”

Setting down her fork, Constance takes another drink.

“And I have no idea what you are talking about Mandy. I’m just your run of the mill witch who is just doing her best to stay under the radar. Whether it’s Dumbledork or the Dark Lord who runs this school, makes no difference to me just so long as they don’t turn this place into another Auschwitz. I’m actually starting to like it here, and this beats the alternatives.”

Mandy scrutinizes Constance before finally replying.”I don’t buy that for a minute, but because Pansy trusts you, so must I. If you aren’t a threat to the Dark Lord, then you’ll be allowed to live, I suppose. Nonetheless, Pansy chose you to do this errand over me and everyone else, so it’s an honor to serve her. Everything you need to know she’ll tell you later.”

Madeline stands using Constance as leverage while stealthily slipping a sealed note into Constance’s cloak pocket, and hurriedly returns to Pansy’s side. Constance graciously nods towards Pansy, acknowledging her mission. Finishing her dinner, she meanders to a secluded corner of the castle, and reads the note Madeline slipped in her pocket. Constance feels her heart shake and flutter reading Madeline’s words, and she immediately incinerates the parchment. Frustrated, Constance walks the halls long past when the first years were settled in their houses.

 

Strolling into the common room, Constance finds Pansy intimidating first-years and clearly establishing her rule over the young arrivals. Staring coldly at a droopy-haired second year curled-up in the comfiest chair in the room, it takes only a few seconds for her to scramble up and vacate the chair for Constance. Spinning around, Constance collapses in the chair, and waits for Pansy to finish her tormenting treatment. Letting her glare dance lightly across each face in the room, Constance counts almost half are members of her Lion’s Guard. Reflecting inwards, in her practiced gloomy and brooding exterior, it only lasts for ten minutes until Pansy comes to kneel beside her chair to whisper.

“I need you to pick up something for me, in a few weeks. I’ll let you know when it’s ready, and you need to meet my contact behind Hogsmead. Then bring it into Hogsmead and leave it on the chair of an empty table until Malfoy enters. Then just leave. He’ll do the rest.”

Nodding, Constance sees no point in saying anything. To ask what she’s picking up is pointless, and is probably some kind of contraband she didn’t want to know about in the first place. With nothing exchanged, Pansy rises and leaves Constance to resume her evil brooding. With numerous plans running amuck, Constance fears she’ll lose her balance and fall headlong into the wrong direction. Exhausted, she rises and fights her mirth as the underclass students jump clear of her path and scramble for cover. Passing Madeline in the hall she bows slightly at the waist appearing as a courteous exchange. As she enters, she notices the emptiness of her room, as her roommates belongings were nowhere in sight. With her new position, came also the privacy of a room to all those in her position. With Constance being the only Slytherin student-teacher, and no prefects needing a roommate, she was left with a room to herself, for the immediate future at least. Finding her room as she left it, she speaks a simple disrobe spell and steps out of her clothes. With a swish of her wand, the dirty clothes find the appropriate clothes bin, and her robes hang themselves up in her closet. Climbing into her bed naked, she relishes the silk sheets Susan had bought her as a birthday present. Sliding around between the sheets, she purrs from the energy they give her. As she drifts into sleep, she notes how she must return the favor to Susan for Christmas.

 

After spending an intense morning in Care for Magical Creatures, the third period of remedial potions went far better than she hoped. Finding three familiar faces from her Lion’s Guard, she discovered they were spread out reassuring their friends of her qualifications and sincerity to truly improve their potions skills. Though over half were seventh year students, the remaining students were Slytherin who were taking double potions and her class during their break. Under those rules, she couldn’t give them a grade, but the additional experience was priceless when it came to taking the NEWTs. Splitting the class in half, Constance focused each in the area of study which Professor Slughorn advised her to, while ensuring the safety of all by preventing the mixing of fumes from the two different projects. Feeling more like a tutor than student professor, Constance spent her hour drifting between the two halves, and ended her class by collapsing in her chair, exhausted. As the Cornelius Benders, a 7th year Slytherin, closes the door behind him, a beige and grey cat sneaks out from behind the desks and leaps atop the chair beside her. In a breath, the cat is replaced by Professor McGonagall sitting politely and smiling inwardly. Constance murmurs under her breath,

“I was wondering who’d be reviewing my class; I didn’t believe you all would just cut me loose without some supervision.” Lifting her head up, she sits back in her chair. Minerva stands and brushes the ruffles from her skirt.

“I am but one of many who will oversee your tutoring sessions. It takes more than just passing the NEWTs to teach…as I see you have grasped the foundation of. You aren’t like Professors Snape or Slughorn in your technique; and with some helpful guidance, I believe you can be a superb professor in your own right.” Patting Constance’s shoulder, she turns and leaves.

“The exhaustion will eventually pass, as your confidence grows. Get some lunch, and another professor will be around to observe your next class.”

As Professor McGonagall reaches to open the door, it is opened for her as Susan Bones comes by the walk with Constance to lunch. Bowing politely, she smiles as she passes and enters, pulling the door closed tightly behind her. Strolling down the path, she smiles lovingly at her best friend and waits as she extinguishes the remaining cauldrons. As Constance joins her, Susan reaches out and passionately kisses her. Embracing her tightly, she eventually breaks the kiss and leads her back into the corridor, reestablishing a respectful distance between two girls, best friends or not. As they stroll happily towards the great hall, Constance finally smiles meekly, and proclaims:

“I don’t believe I thanked you enough for my birthday present this summer.”

Susan shyly giggles before replying.

“Yes you did…twice that first night, and at least every other day for two weeks afterwards.”

 

October arrived, and brought with it horribly cold weather, cooling everyone’s mood as well. With the shorter days came a dour melancholy which spread through every aspect of student life. With mounting reports of increasing murders and disappearances spreading across the Wizard and Muggle world, few could resist the foul spirits filling the school. Constance, the Queen of Dour Spirits, was not immune to the effects and inflicted her displeasure upon the poor souls who crossed her. Growling horrifically at every younger student who came within 2 feet of her, a bubble of fear wrapped around her affecting student and professor alike. Even the fear inspiring Hagred, complained to Professor Snape that Constance was unusually sour. Absently, Severus dismissed Hagred’s remarks but eventually meandered by Constance’s class after lunch. Finding her growling and ripping apart a seventh year Slytherin who nearly blew up the classroom by improperly mixing an Elixir of the Magi. Used by every wizard who makes magical items like wands to flying brooms, the elixir is an essential binding agent and can easily react to anything it comes in contact with. The final product after boiling down becomes a thick translucent goo, resembling foul smelling honey. Though the entire cooking process takes several days, the difficulty in making the elixir lies with the mixing. Several explosive potions must be carefully added, at specific rates, in a specific order. Any deviation in the order or rate not can, but will result in a fantastic and catastrophic explosion killing anyone within fifty feet. Furthermore, the elixir was one of the potions she was tested on for the NEWTs, so the importance of following explicit directions was still etched in her mind.

Severus drifts down to the floor, ending Constance’s five minute rant.

“Perhaps, Mr. **Zabini has adequately comprehended the severity of his error, and will understand a belittling and humiliating dressing down by a junior student, will remind him that it is far better than being dead. Those kinds of mistakes will definitively result in your failing at NEWT-level potions! Miss Hollander isn’t just enjoying herself by “ripping you a new one” as you might say, but trying to burn into your thick skulls that a mistake at this level isn’t just failure, but almost certain death. Dismissed.”**

In unison, the cauldrons are magically cleaned and fires extinguished, as the students clean their areas and depart for either their last class for the day or their breaks, while Constance gets control of her emotions. Professor Snape inspects some of the potions before the students clean up their areas, and hides his admiration for Constance. As the last student departs and closes the door, Severus confronts Constance.

“It seems you have taken up where I left off at in potions; students dread your wrath as they did mine. Though I appreciate your display of respect, leave those dramatic shows to those who have tenure to get away with them. I will tell you what I told Albus when you first came here: it was as shame that you did not attend Hogwarts in the first year…I could have made you the best potions wizard in history. Alas, you are very good, but you have no real love for it do you?”

Constance shakes her head. “No Professor. Sylver Tannious is responsible for ensuring I would never enjoy the art of potions…” Constance uncovers her left arm revealing rows of burns and knife scars. “…or be able to walk in public in a pretty little dress or a bathing suit since I was seven.” Severus momentarily lets escape a flash of horrific remorse, and regains his composure, and replies.

“As detestable as I am, I would never have done that to any student…even Mr. Potter. A cut or small scar here or there is trifling, even character building, but what you were subjected to goes far beyond reason. Understand this: what I do is done for the greater good, not my personal enjoyment. If I kill, it is because the creature was going to die, and I was putting him out of his misery. If I did it, at least it would be quick and merciful, rather than what others in that position might exploit. When caring for animals, I’m sure this concept applies, yes?”

Constance nods numbly.

“Excellent, you are on your way to confronting the real world, away from books and dormitories. If you choose to pursue Care of Magical Creatures beyond Hogwarts, then they will be blessed to have such a superb potion-maker in their ranks; don’t forget your skills or let them wane. THAT would be an unforgiveable crime.”

Smiling, Constance follows Professor Snape to the door, and closes it behind her.

 

**Chapter 11: Obligations**

 

Strolling towards Hogsmead, Constance was understandably apprehensive. Having built up her strength to blindly obey an order designed to kill Professor Dumbledore, she could barely look at herself in the mirror every morning. Though Pansy had never once told her the purpose of her trip, Constance’s secret informer had filled her in. She trudged along, dragging her feet, and reminded herself of Dumbledore’s orders of non-interference. Though he may believe he’s protected well enough inside the castle, Constance knew no one was entirely safe.

Only first years gave Constance staring glances or petrified gazes, and they were usually short lived. Drifting behind Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop she finds a brown paper wrapped box, resembling a long candy box. With a little shake, she hears the rustle of an object within, and tucks it into a bag under her robes. Strolling quickly around the building, she picks up her pace to blend in with the half-dozen second years laughing and carrying on towards the town’s center. Keeping 2 paces from them, she resembles just another Slytherin who doesn’t fit in with the crowd. Turning abruptly from the gaggle of girls gossiping and laughing, Constance glides into Hogsmead. Filled with students of all ages, it allows Constance to disappear in the bustle of student bodies and find an isolated corner from the discerning Gryphindors and Ravenclaws seated around the room. It wasn’t surprising to find a pair of Slytherin 6th years at the nearby table, having scared away the other houses. As they start to give her a chewing for getting too close, they stop mid-sentence upon recognizing her, not only for being one of them, but for who she was. They both smile nervously, and lower their voices.

Content for the moment, Constance orders a pint of butterbeer, and sips on it until she sees Malfoy enter and shake off the cold. Looking around the room, he sees Constance seated quietly in a corner with the Slytherin 6th years whispering to each other nearby. Unsure if Constance had noticed him, he makes his way to the bar, orders himself a drink louder than he should have, and waits until it’s ready. Grasping the cup, he takes a deep breath and nervously turns to see if Constance had seen or heard him by now. Shock hits him as the dreary black shape he had seen moments ago, was nowhere in sight. Turning his glare left and right, he can find no sign she was even in the bar. Having heard no one else enter or leave, he wonders if she was a delusion of his nervous state. Taking the seat he had last seen her in, the 6th years stand and leave, and he sits alone in his corner. After taking two more large draughts, he lays his hand by his side and nearly jumps when he feels a small box by his leg. Pulling the box closer, he sighs noting he has little choice but to follow through on the plan. Heading towards the loo, he waits for Katie Bell to pass, before he follows with his wand in hand.

Constance sat in her room absorbed in guilt. Having no reason to let tears fall, or to punish herself, she had little choice but mope around cleaning her dirt/dust-free room. Hours passed until word came that Katie Bell was in the infirmary after touching a cursed necklace. With everyone clueless to its origins, speculations ran rampant to its intended target. Beside herself, Constance could do nothing but focus her anger on Malfoy. As she approached him with her wand concealed in her sleeve, she intended to turn him inside out, a popular spell from her most hated Professor Sylver Tannious. Though it won’t completely work on a Human, the magic was incredibly painful and would try to work. Having survived numerous occasions, she reserved the spell to only her most hated. As she closed on him from behind in the corridor to the common area, Pansy scoops her left arm and spins her around. Anger seethes from her ears, and Pansy laughs in her face.

 

“You did great today, though things didn’t go as planned.” Shoving Constance into a broom closet, she slams the door closed and continues in a whisper. “The Dark Lord has taken notice of you…in a good way.”

Constance blinks flushing away her boiling anger and clears her thoughts. “Wha…what?”

Pansy nods approvingly. “You’re bloody brilliant girl! Even though my Malfoy didn’t get his target, your name was mentioned having kept cool and getting it to him like a natural…a trusted spy was watching. When the Dark Lord comes, he wants to meet you, I hear.”

Constance cannot fathom the meaning or complexities of her situation and struggles for articulated speech.

“How? I mean why? I mean…I don’t know what I mean!”

Pansy resumes laughing and pushes the door open, leaving Constance standing in the closet in shock and disbelief. After a several minutes, she asks herself out loud: “How in the Hell did I get myself into this mess.”

 

A week after the incident with Miss Bell, Constance finally gets her Lion Guard together for their monthly meeting. A necessity more than anything, it was their only opportunity to exchange all their intelligence and elect the new house leaders. Surprisingly enough, Constance wasn’t elected as the Slytherin Leader, which she thought would free up her schedule. Instead as the elections seemed to come to a close, Susan stands and takes the chair and addresses Constance directly.

“For our last position, everyone decided that an organization like this needed a figurehead, a leader to lead the individual house leaders. We all discussed who might be a good candidate, and we came to three people. In the end we had a secret vote, and we came to an agreement with the results.”

Constance sits perplexed by insinuation her dearest Susan was making. Susan takes a large breath and smiles nervously before continuing.

“Constance, by a vote of all the members of the Lion Guard, we decided you should be the leader. From this day forward, you will be referred to as the ‘Red Lion.’ This is your secret name that will replace your name when referring to you in your position, not used in regular speech. This will ensure your security and secrecy for the coming days. No one will use this name outside of its intent, and never in casual communication. ‘He who shall not be named’ is murdering and kidnapping anyone in a position to mount any resistance to his cause. Your secret position is only effective if it remains a secret. Everyone understands this, and everyone is prepared to defend you if need be.”

Constance sits once again in disbelief, unsure how things kept falling into her lap. After agonizing seconds, she clears her throat, nods, pushes the rims of her glasses firmly against her face and rises.

“I guess I accept, right?”

Susan nods. “You got that right yah bloody adorable yank!”

 

Susan began to see less and less of Constance outside of class. For the first couple of weeks she mentally justified that she was inordinately busy due to her class loads both as student and teacher. Several times she tried to have words with her, only to discover her in deep whispered conversations with Professor Snape and Flitwick. Frustratingly, she tried later only to find her in late meetings with the Professor Sprout and another student, Neville Longbottom. By Christmas holiday, Constance surprised her by saying she was staying behind to do some work with Snape and Sprout. Though she promised to try and join her by Christmas day, she arrived just before and had return to the school the Friday ahead of the rest of class via the Floo Network. Never saying what the project was only made Susan more suspicious. To her surprise as she exited the train arriving at Howarts, Constance stood grinning on the platform. Susan fought from leaping into her arms, and coldly approached.

“Not too busy to meet an old friend I see?”

Constance bites her lower lip and shakes her head. “Ah, I do deserve that, I know. I promise you, on the flip-side, it’s for a good reason. Here.” Extending her hand, she presents a scroll, which Susan reluctantly accepts with chilly gratitude. “Tonight, after your duties are accomplished, join me in the main hall and I’ll show you my project. Let’s say 9:30?”

With a dramatic sigh Susan, agrees, and they walk to the horseless carriages, unusually quiet and short on conversation.

                                           

Deep inside her, Susan couldn’t wait for 9:30 to come. Though she played it cool and collected to prod at Constance, in reality she was anxious to finally discover the little secret Constance had been keeping to herself these months. It had derailed her Christmas plans with Constance, and disrupted her daily time with the woman she had come to love. In the back of her mind, she knew she wasn’t cheating on her, but the project had had the same emotional effect. Doubt and excessive time, only amplified the emotions brewing inside of her. Quietly traversing the endless staircases from her house, she finally arrived minutes before 9:30 in hopes Constance would be early as well, which she wasn’t disappointed. Smiling, Constance rose and took Susan’s hand. Without saying a word she leads her deeper into the castle. Nervously biting her lip, she finds great comfort in Constance holding her cold hand. Though Constance’s were usually ice cubes, in her current state her touch was incredibly warming to both her hands and heart.

After a few minutes, she realizes their destination and she loses the ability to speak. Entering the infirmary, she sees Professor McGonagall sitting at the foot of Katie Bell’s bed, who glances in their direction. With a weary smile, she encourages Susan to join her as Constance joins Professor Flitwick. Their apparent familiarity with each other lets them immediately begin working without exchanging any noticeable pleasantries. Constance strategically places eight black pearls around Katie’s unconscious form, and reads from Flitwick’s large tome. The pearls suddenly turn bright red as the words drift off her tongue, and an air of malice fills the room. After months of work, they finally had a tool to begin to break the charm, but it fought for its life. Hours pass as Constance struggles to recite the words as the demonic force strikes at her soul, slashing and cutting, creating deep invisible wounds. As the clock strikes midnight, Constance is thrown away from Katie, tumbling hideously over the infirmary beds. With Matron Pomfrey at Constance’s side in seconds, Susan has to fight from screaming and crying. As people scramble to gather up Constance, Professor Snape suddenly apparates beside Constance and gingerly lifts her head off the floor. After a minute, Constance’s eyes flutter open revealing her demonic cat eyes. Before everyone can see them, he puts her glasses back on her face, hiding the unsettling eyes.

As she’s helped to her feet, Snape chides: “I told you this was ill advised.”

Constance nods as she gets her balance momentarily and collapses in a chair. “True, you did, but we wouldn’t have its name would we? Ozmodius. It calls itself Ozmodius, mean anything to you?”

Snape ponders for excruciating seconds before responding. “Perhaps. It’s going to take some extensive research at the Great Library in Bath. There is something familiar about it, but I can’t place it.”

Professor McGonagall, practically in tears, exclaims: “Enough! That’s enough for tonight! Miss Bones, would you please escort Constance down to Slytherin hall?” Not waiting for an answer she continued to her next thought. “And please hurry back to your own dormitory, it’s far beyond your hour, and you have classes in the morning.” Susan lets out a weak “Yes professor,” and hurries to grip Constance’s waist as she stands. Taking the brunt of Constance’s weight, Susan is thankful Constance was barely seven and a half stone. The trip to the dungeon becomes easier as Constance regains much her strength on the long trip down, so that by the time they arrive, she only using Susan’s arm as support. Passing several House boys and girls patrolling the halls, they don’t even question them. As they approach the Dungeon portal painting, Constance draws Susan close and passionately kisses her. Without uttering a word, they part ways and Susan drifts to her dorm room, on a blissful cloud.

 

 

 

**Chapter 12: Liberations**

 

Sitting around the center table in her class with Susan and Ernie, Constance munches on chips and sandwiches with her two best friends. Setting down his sandwich, Ernie downs a flask of water and wipes his mouth before speaking.

“So, tell me again why you had to do it, and not one of the professors.”

Taking a sip from her flask, she nods to speak. “Because if one of the professors like Flitwick or Snape had tried, this thing would have raised all its defenses and we would never have gotten anywhere. So I went in, and EVENTUALLY tricked it to tell me its name. You, see?”

Ernie nods approvingly, but then shakes his head. “No.”

Susan sighs loudly, and Constance stops her from getting annoyed.

“This cursed necklace imparted some aspect of its evil creator or something, probably by design. This way it’s not just a charm or enchantment, it’s an evil living entity which slowly kills its victim, if it didn’t do it initially. I have no idea how Katie survived in the first place, but if it doesn’t get out of her, it will destroy her body and soul.”

Nodding Ernie knows he’s pushing the boundaries for his next question, but his intuition tells him this will be his only chance to ask.

“And how is this different from what’s in you?”

A heavy veil of silence suffocates them, and Ernie verifies he had gone too far. To his surprise, Constance thought for a minute on how to answer him.

“Well, that’s a dark story in itself. I got this thing inside me when I was murdered. Another infamous wizard thought he was being brilliant when he tested a new bloodletting spell on his student…me. Well, as I lied there and was about to step onto the great beyond, some evil thing grabbed my wrist and yanked me back. It wanted revenge on that same man…a deal gone bad or something…and it needed a living body to do so. It threw power, fame, riches, but I kept turning it down. I just wanted to go be with my dead mom and dad who were waiting at the portal...I could clearly see them smiling at me, like they were so proud of me. And in those fractions of a second it BEGGED me not to go, and it said I had an important future. It said that I would be an instrument of great good despite having his filthy dirty soul in my broke and twisted body. He said he couldn’t undo the past but he could level the playing field when I need his help. I looked at my dad and he nodded in agreement and I knew I couldn’t go until my time was truly over on this Earth. I made that demon swear that it could never influence me to do evil deeds or acts, and that this life was MINE, not his when I’m not using it. It agreed and it returned me to life, and took an incredible amount pleasure killing that sniveling creature who had TRIED to kill me. And yes, I had to watch his death as it stretched out for 3 weeks until Amelia came to check on me. God, I wanted it to end. His screams, pleas, cries…”

Constance has to stop and drink quickly as her lunch suddenly wants to come back up. Taking a deep breath Constance continues finally.

“That was when I was 10, so, it pretty much just sits inside of me sleeping, but vigilant for an opportunity to “protect” me. It HATES the agreement we made. It has to ASK to do anything, and I know it’s humiliating. It told me years ago: ‘I once slaughtered a hundred humans for half the insult that girl did to you! Can I take care of it? PLEASE!’ I laughed so hard, I blew milk out my nose! It’s a challenge not to let it loose sometimes…it knows some serious magic, and I can channel a lot of it; but I have to remember I’ll be judged by his actions not just mine. This is my soul, not his. He had his chance when he had a body and this is my life, not his.”

Susan is the first to snap out of the dour haze which enveloped them.

“So why didn’t you just have this demon or whatever force the necklace to release Katie?”

With an evilly devious smile, Constance replies: “Not so quickly, my dear. Until we know its origins, we have nothing on it, no leverage to force it to let go. If I had tried, it probably would have consumed Katie’s life-force in its defense, thereby killing her. We need to do some research before we can have my demon force it to release her willingly. Professor Snape will come through on this, I know it. Most students don’t understand him like I do.”

Ernie sneers: “Are you kidding? He bloody-well scares me to death!” Laughter fills the room, and Constance nods in agreement.

“Yes, he has his moments, but he really does care about the students. If the Dark Lord were to assume power and Snape was the Headmaster, at least he wouldn’t let mob rule control us. That much I feel, and I think he would protect as many students as possible, not just Slytherin.”

Susan sighs having been a part of a conversation she had wanted to have for years now. “I really hope you are right sweetie, because things are looking very bad out there.”

Constance pats Susan’s hand then Ernie’s shoulder. “He also tells me that the Dark Lord WILL try and take Hogwarts eventually, but not right away. His past is here, and it believes he’s afraid that there are some elements which could undo him here, so he doesn’t want to come near here yet. That’s why he hasn’t tried to come here. And I tell you, this little guy in me is REALLY looking forward to the battle it imagines will occur when that happens. Trust me! When the Dark Lord tries to take Hogwarts, he’ll have to deal with the Lion Guard and my little buddy inside of me who is dying to get out. Just don’t get freaked out if you see me dancing in the blood of my enemies, he’s been telling me that it’s his favorite way to celebrate a great victory, and I might not be able to stop him at some point. Hey! At least I don’t have to drink blood for him! He keeps telling how he misses the taste of fresh blood, GAG!” Making a gagging expression, gets everyone to laugh, intentionally lightening the mood. Noting the time, they all rise and head for the door.

Ernie holds the door for Susan and stops Constance as she passes.

“You’re kidding about the blood thing right?”

Constance can’t hold back the vile putrid smile which creeps on her face, and shakes her head no.

Standing in the doorway he murmurs: “I hate it when she does that.”

 

The weeks and months which passed showed little differentiation from those before them. Aside from monthly Guard meetings, Constance struggled with teaching and keeping her grades up with her own studies. With no change in Katie’s condition, all she could do was wait until Snape or one of the other Professors could make some headway in discovering the mystery behind Ozmodius. Even with special permission to peruse the restricted library, Constance could find nothing insightful or revealing regarding the name. All she could find was the name went out style in the early 500’s and is never seen again; she found nothing spectacular about anyone with that name, nor how anyone was tied to a cursed necklace. The theory that they could just destroy the necklace, and it would remove the curse was equally flawed, as it would prevent the spirit from ever leaving Katie. Furthermore, only once Katie was dead, would it return to the necklace and wait for another victim to touch it. Frustration was her constant companion, as she felt responsible for Katie, and refused to quit until she had her free. The occasional Quidditch game offered some relief but Constance could never fully separate herself from the work of liberating Katie. As the bludger zips across the field, so does she back to Katie’s side.

When Potter was hospitalized from a blow from a bludger, Constance kept away, fearing he might get interested in her work. Seeing from countless examples, every time he stuck his fat nose in stuff, bad things happen to those around him. There was no doubt he never intended for any of those things to happen, and that’s what scared her the most: trouble followed him like a bad smell. If he were to begin to snoop around in her business, she had no doubt he would unravel her plans and expose her as a fraud to her own house, and alienate her to the school. Though secret organizations within the school were no longer illegal, as they were during Umbridge’s rule, she knew he’d find a way to screw it up. This reason was the essential element to why she didn’t want many Gryphindors in her organization, the fear that Potter might take interest in her operations. As of now, the lower class students were the only ones she could trust, but Susan and Sara insist there were more. She admitted that she’d love to enlist many Gryphindors who were exceptional like the know-it-all Granger, but her association with Potter was too close for comfort. In the end, she said when the battle comes, there’s no way they could keep these people out of the fight against the Dark Lord.

The tutelage of the lower class students was taken over by the leaders in the lower grades, while Constance, Sara, Susan and Ernie took over teaching those leaders. Grades amongst them were phenomenally advanced giving them untold advantages in their studies. Even Susan nearly fell over when Constance informed her she knew how to apparate since she was twelve. Her horrific stories of close calls and survival, amazed her group, and inspired them struggle to learn advanced concepts ahead of their class level. While Constance and her 6th years taught the younger students, they didn’t have anyone to really train them beyond what Constance knew. Though she had taken her NEWTs in potions, she was no better than many of her fellow students in the other fields. She did confide she could pass her NEWTs in Dark Arts, and pointed out the inherent dangers in doing so. Within the ministry, nothing was sacred, and her skill level would eventually get the attention of the Death Eaters. Not mentioning these were Dumbledore’s thoughts, and not hers, she felt it was one of many necessary omissions.

It was the latter part of April when Professor Snape suddenly stepped into the final minutes of her Friday afternoon class. The air of fear blowing across the students is unmistakable, bringing an evil grin across her lips. Constance bowed appreciatively for his arrival, getting a meek return from the broody Professor. Looking around he waits until she is finished and the room emptied before speaking.

“It appears our foul necklace has a weakness…its creator himself. It took much research and use of favors to obtain this information. We will execute this expulsion Sunday night. Timing is important, and the next lunar alignment shall aid in our endeavor. Be ready at 11:00 pm.”

 

Time dragged by for Constance, having to wait for Sunday. There was little comfort in time, duties were barely fillers. Going through the motions gave no relief, and her anxiety had no limits. It took little to get another student pass for Susan, and she was as nervous as her other half. She never signed up for this kind of stress and worry, yet her heart told her otherwise. Shuffling alongside Constance, Susan was too afraid to ask specifics; horror and uncertainty loomed over her and she couldn’t bring herself to ask the difficult questions. With the afternoon of Sunday creeping to an end, Constance bids Susan a soft goodnight and retires for a nap. Fitfully she rests, but wakes with twenty minutes to spare. Throwing on her tall boots, she arrives as Professor Snape is striding into the infirmary.

Looking around, she counts four people sitting around Katie including Matron Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall. The two others are adults which Constance had never seen before but Professor Sanpe reveals.

“Mr. and Mrs. Bell, I must ask you to not interfere during the incantation, you might endanger us and your daughter. This is dangerous not only to your daughter but to Miss Hollander as well. If you touch or interfere in any way, it could have lethal results. Please stand with Professor McGonagall in that area.”

Pointing to an area three beds away, Severus assumes a position opposite of Constance and motions to begin. Constance releases a meek smile at Susan seated across from them. Setting the black pearls out once again, Constance begins her lengthy chant, getting ready for an exhaustive evening ahead. Professor Flitwick steps out from behind a blind and carefully pours out the dreaded necklace from its box to within an inch of Katie’s hand. With everything in place, he steps back and waits alongside Susan. By 3 am, Susan was a nervous wreck watching Constance writher and cringe as she and the Dark Arts Professor struggled to eradicate the monster within Katie. Snape, covered in a heavy sheen of sweat and exhaustion fared much better than Constance who was struggling to remain in control. Drenched in sweat, Constance pants and struggles to breathe; as she about to collapse she screams and becomes rigid. A moment later Katie lets out a blood curling scream shakes violently in bed, until suddenly she stops and her breathing stabilizes. As this happens Snape grasps the edge of the bed before he collapses, and Constance falls back onto the bed behind her unconscious.

Katie’s eyes flutter open and Snape uses a levitation spell to lift the necklace off the bed and put it into the waiting box. After the Matron verifies Katie’s condition, she turns to check on Constance. Susan, fidgeting in her chair, is in tears, and can’t wait any longer. Throwing herself across the room, she holds the near lifeless Constance. A slight breath is coming in and out, and she helps the Matron get Constance into bed. As she fights the tears streaming down her face, Professor Snape oozes up behind her and whispers to her.

“She must rest. It was far harder than we imagined, and she gave her all. There is no telling how long she will rest, but she will awaken.”

Nodding, Susan throws her face into bed and cries over her lover’s hand releasing the evening’s emotions, as Katie’s parents cry in joy having regained their daughter. Matron Pomfrey has Susan help undress Constance and make her comfortable. By late morning, Susan is led back to her dorm to rest, and is told that someone will come for her as soon as Constance awakens. By Friday, Susan resolves to spend the rest of the weekend at Constance’s side. Reading various literature and books, Susan cares little that she’s going hoarse, it just helps her stay focused. Tears drip loosely as she reads, unsure if Professor Snape was being honest with her or not.

Late Sunday afternoon, Constance’s eyes flutter open scaring Susan from her morbid watch. Bursting with tears, Susan yells for the Matron, and helps Constance with her spectacles. Stepping back, the matron checks her over and tells Susan to help feed her some bland porridge. Laughing while the tears flow, Susan fills Constance in on what she missed while she slept and they come closer than they ever had before.

 

The day Albus Dumbledore was killed Constance remembers she was walking into the Slytherin Common area and Pansy sat hysterically worried. Shaking, she recants what Malfoy had told her the night before, and she didn’t believe him. With the school in turmoil, Deputy Headmaster McGonagall took control and stabilized the atmosphere. Constance spent the first day in her room crying, and only came out for dinner. Many Slytherins, who once spoke negatively against him and Potter, now sat in remorse and deep reflection.

As Constance contemplates hunting down Snape and killing him, she’s uncannily remembers the conversation she had with Albus on her third day at the school.

“You’ll be in the Slytherin House, so you’ll fit in really well. I want you to fit in actually, and I have some special instructions that go along with that…” That conversation changed her life, and she couldn’t help but realize he knew what his fate would be, and worse how he would meet it.

“I fear that one day, ‘He who shall not be named’ will return and will be my undoing. You might find it difficult to believe, but I have Severous Snape’s full trust. He actively talks behind my back, per my orders, maintaining his false Death-Eater membership. This is important, as we cannot fight the Dark Lord if we don’t have intelligence from within his private council. I tell you this because one day you might be put in a position where allegiance to him, would greatly help our cause in the final hours. You are to strive to be the most dastardly uncouth Slytherin that Slytherin can make, or be who you are and endeavor to establish as many allies within Slytherin for that final battle against him. An internal civil war as we defend this place, will only aid the Dark Lord. A force of hundreds is as effective as a critical bit of intelligence delivered at the right moment before or during the battle. I leave your methods and means up to you, as you are more likely succeed when it comes from your heart. I won’t restrict you, but keep it within the safe and legal means of the school and your morality.”

Constance remembers nodding and leaving his office developing a persona to present to everyone around her. As the years passed, her true personality inevitably was uncovered as her friends surrounded her and became far too numerous, not to mention falling in love. As she rides the train to Sara’s estate in the country, she can’t imagine how she’s going to carry on without Albus over-looking her studies, smiling warmly as she reports the numbers of students in the Lion Guard. Tears fall uncontrollably, and she clenches Susan’s hand tightly, as the train rocks towards London. Susan can only nod, knowing the feelings they share are the same. With the future uncertain, they hold tightly to each other and keep their friends closer.


	4. Part IV: Deadly Dances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last part. No plans for continuing.

 

**Chapter 13: Horrible Losses…Horrible Gains.**

 

Running through the field, Susan didn’t dare slow with two hefty Death-Eaters just yards behind her. Blindly lobbing blasts behind her, she knew she couldn’t hit anyone, but it sure would make them duck. Half a mile further was her Aunt’s estate and her aunt would be able to back her up. As the distance fades so does her attention and she falls face first onto the ground. With her ankle screaming in agony she can’t hear the men approaching behind her. With a flick of the wrist, Susan’s wand flitters out of reach, and the Death-Eater closes to finish her off. As his counterpart raises his wand to say the death curse, he stops him. “Hold on! I have something better first.”

With a flick of his wrist, Susan’s jacket gets torn off her body as his friend laughs and cheers. Susan bawls helplessly trying to cover herself. With a second flip, her skirt tears away, leaving her black tights in place. As he lowers his wand he suddenly stops mid swing, and a terrified gaze covers him. As Susan cringes she returns her gaze up to see them petrified in place. Panting she pushes herself up and nearly passes out from the pain in her ankle. Crying she feels an icy hand touch her and she starts to scream but instinct stops her. Looking to her left, Constance kneels to her side and casts a mending spell on her ankle. With the pain subsiding, Susan gingerly gets to her feet, and looks with disgust at her would be rapists. With a powerful swing she back-hands him leaving three defined scratches on his face. Unable to flinch or react, he stands motionless; she reels back three feet and places a perfect kick between his legs, and he remains standing. Pain shoots through her ankle, but she enjoys it nonetheless. As she prepares for a second run at him, Constance grabs her arm and shakes her head.

“Sweetie, he’s probably unconscious now. We have to get to your aunt’s!” Susan nods and begins gingerly limping forward. Constance yells to her: “I’ll be there in a second!”

Turning to the two petrified men, she seethes.

“The Bones are now under my protection.” With a quick flick of her wrist, their wands fly into her open left hand. “You tell them, that Constance Hollander now owns them and…”

Susan’s horrific scream stops her and she turns running. Over her shoulder she throws a spell at them, encasing them in thick roots preventing their immediate escape. Reaching Susan’s kneeling pose, she hesitates to ask, as her gaze reaches the image of their large house. Over the main house, where they had once kissed and professed each other’s love, the horrific green skull and snake of the Death Eaters hovered proudly overhead. With several fires burning and gaping holes punched in the house, it hardly resembled the haven it once represented. Putting her arm over Susan’s shoulders, Constance looks back at the captured men, and flicks her wrist. With a grotesque slurp, they slip deep into the earth using their last breaths hundreds of feet below them. Under her breath, Constance murmurs: “They’d have fouled up the message anyways.”

Susan starts to ask what happened to them, but notices the two huge gopher mounds where they had once stood, and bites her lip, rationalizing if she didn’t ask, she wouldn’t really know the truth. Constance retrieves the jacket, but the skirt will take considerable mending and just rolls it up into a ball. Constance leads her to the Fawcett Estate and tries to explain the situation. Within the hour, Aurrors arrive, take statements, and expedite the investigation. Almost a week later, Susan finally returns to her house to gather her things with 4 Aurrors and Constance. Constance corrals her away from the kitchen area where her aunt was found. It was obvious a serious search was done of the premises for Susan, but fortunately they assumed the two slags they sent would find her. Sniffling, she gathers everything of personal value into four massive trunks, and portals them away to the Fawcett Estate for safekeeping. Crying on Constance’s shoulder, welcomes the cold embrace, and remembers little in the weeks and months that followed.

Despite the security concerns that both the Fawcetts and Ministry expressed, Susan opted to return to Hogwarts so long as Constance returned. Constance reminded her that she had to return early, but Sara and her family promised to ensure her safe delivery to the Hogwarts Express. In the papers, the announcement of Severus Snape assuming the position of Headmaster had mixed reactions. The Fawcetts questioned how safe either Susan or Sara would be, while Susan trusted Constance’s advice to return because he was headmaster. In the end it was Susan’s choice; and the Fawcetts had been able to stay quietly uninvolved in the first war, so they remained just as unnoticed in the beginning of this one. As neither a threat nor ally, they wouldn’t directly threaten them for some time.

Constance’s return to the school was heralded by a letter from the new Headmaster Severus Snape. In it, he clearly detailed her new position as the new Professor of Magical Defense, the previous Protection against the Dark Arts, had been abolished by the new Ministry. He expressed his sincere regrets regarding the loss of Susan’s aunt, and promised no harm would come directly to her due to her aunt’s previous associations against the Dark Lord. In effect, she was no longer on a kill list, like many people outside the school, and Constance showed the letter to everyone in good faith. Most still had firm resignations against the return, but Constance left before the final word was decided. Unsure if Susan will heed the Fawcetts or join her at school, Constance left a week early and was greeted by Professor Filtwick in Hogsmead. Surprised to see him so disheveled, she gingerly looks around to see if anyone is paying undo attention. A pair of local boys put Constance’s trunk onto a cart, and ushers it ahead of the pair.  As they walked towards the school and the cart is barely in sight, Constance finally breaks the silence imbedded between them.

“I’m kinda confused Professor. I still have one more year to finish, and yet am I being promoted to full Professor status?”

He shakes his head no. Practically sprinting to keep up with Constance’s stride, he pulls on her long doomsday cloak and whispers.

“You are technically still a student, but Headmaster Snape feels that some defense is needed for the student body. The idea of an uncertified professor would amuse ‘Who Cannot Be Named’ and provide a negligible level of training. The headmaster will fill you in. I am pleased you decided to return. We are still unsure of what will happen and most of us are in turmoil for what the new ministry will demand of us. For now, you are protected by the fact you are not one of us, and you have not displeased you know who, ministry, or the Headmaster. As officially a student, you fall under the control of the School Headmaster, not the ministry. We believe that if you were openly attacked but them, it would draw all the colonies into this, upsetting his plans thoroughly…err…um…Untied States, I mean.”

Constance giggles hearing his correction. “It’s okay, I got used to it after my first year here. So basically the U.S. and the rest of the Wizarding World is waiting for ‘You Know Who’ to pull a Pearl Harbor?”

Feltwick looks at her in complete confusion, and Constance can only shake her head.

“Never mind, I understand the situation though. You need to get with Professor Burbage…” Constance stops herself when referring to the missing Muggle Studies Professor. “Um, she’s listed as still missing huh?”

The deep remorse in his face and slow nod tells Constance that she’s another one of the many victims missing without any signs. Constance curses under breath and continues trudging up the path towards the school.  

With her trunk carted off to Snapes’s old room, Constance makes the long march up to see the new Headmaster. She has to wait several minutes before she’s allowed to enter; and as she’s permitted to climb the revolving stairs, she runs into a malicious pair exiting. They growl at her and are surprised when she doesn’t shirk back in fear. As they begin to draw their wands, a snide voice chides them from up the stairs.

“Harm her, and you will both have to answer to the Dark Lord for your quick tempers.” Even more irate, they storm away staring coldly. Constance had learned from experience to never turn her back, and these two were exactly the reason. Even as they stroll away, they too stare back waiting for trouble. Constance carefully backs up the stairs and turns quickly to rush up the stairs. As she breaches the room, Headmaster Severus Snape sighs dramatically.

“You took long enough. Those two are the Dark Lord’s new professors, the Carrows, and will not be a problem. I know this is unusual, but I have assigned you as the new Assistant Dark Arts Professor. The Dark Lord actually doesn’t want a generation of helpless children, but doesn’t want them to be too adept right now. There aren’t any Seventh Year classes to teach, nor sixth as Amycus will directly teach those. You will concentrate on the First-years thru forth, and ensure you teach basic prescribed methods instituted by that creature Umbridge for your first two, and then gradually work them towards application. I am confident you can follow my instructions as if I was teaching them, so we won’t have too many problems. I will ensure Amycus doesn’t get in your way. Questions?”

Constance ponders over that thought far longer Snape could imagine. Unsure how it might go over, Constance dances on recklessness by asking what was stirring in her mind.

“I was there when they killed Susan’s aunt; not in the house, but close with Susan. I had to defend us, and I _eliminated_ a pair of…” Constance is cut dramatically short from finishing her sentence.

“The Dark Lord had assured me Susan was not on his list anymore, so she has nothing to worry about by returning. As for your actions before then, the two were sloppy to have been taken out by a pair of sixth years. If you hadn’t killed them, the Dark Lord most assuredly would have. Anything else?”

Constance shakes her head no, and rises slowly. Bowing dramatically, she waits for Severus to dismiss her. After a long silence, he releases her and Constance strides out of the office. As she begins clopping down the stone stairs in her two inch heels, she hears Severus mention: “I did a bit of reorganizing in here, and I believe some of your things were stored here accidentally. I sent it all to your office… _Professor_ Hollander.”  

Constance pauses, bows her head, and says: “Thank you Headmaster.”

Arriving at Headmaster Snape’s old office, Constance finds her chest and discovers her first conundrum: she only has outfits for her as a student. As Professor she was now free from the any of the dress requirements from either school, and meant she could develop her own style appropriate to the day or season. Perplexed, she made a list of things she needed for within her office, only to discover a fully stocked desk of parchments, ink quills and various supplies need to begin immediately. Thankful, she moves on to her lesson ideas and retrieves the infamously fundamental book of defense against the dark arts Umbridge utilized, and began mapping out a basic lesson plan for the first and second years, incorporating the fundamentals of magical defense and protection. By dinner, having worked through lunch without realizing it, she drags her weary bones to the great hall and joins many professors waiting in the kitchen for their plates. Chit-chatting, the room falls quiet as she enters, putting her in the worst situation she ever imagined. As she’s on the verge of tears, Constance cannot manage to find her voice. After a minute, when they realized she was alone, did Professor McGonagall break the wall down and speak openly.

“I’m sorry Miss Hollander, we thought the headmaster might be with you. You almost have his aura at times and…well, it was rude of us.” Behind her a meek man’s voice corrects her.

“That’s Professor Hollander isn’t it?” With her eyes watering, Constance nods quietly and turns to her Charms Professor Filtwick. “Yes. The Headmaster informed me only after I arrived. I’ve been super busy trying to develop some sort of lesson plan for the first and second years, and I think I can manage something which accomplishes what the…ministry…requires, and what I can prepare them for. Though honestly, I doubt it’s enough. Um…Umbridge kinda messed things up last year, so the second years aren’t too far off kilter but the 3rd and 4th years will be trying.”

McGonagall reaches out and hugs Constance apologetically and the mood gradually returns to normal. Ordering a chef’s salad and a few butterbeers to take with her, Filtwick joins Constance in her study and spends the remainder of the evening offering his advice in developing her plan. Often they talk of the summer and Constance reluctantly retells Amelia Bones’ murder. The horror of it, even with omitting her killing of the two Deatheaters, still sickens the professor. By midnight, the two professors part ways and Constance yearns to collapse into her bed from exhaustion.

The hair on the back of her neck stands up, and she instinctively throws the bag into the corner and pulls out her wand in one motion. With a stupefy spell on her lips she stops as she recognizes the dark ominous shape by her window. With him only having his hand on the wand in his robe, he stops realizing he can’t pull it out in time to defend himself. One of the few tactics in dueling is if you don’t have the drop on someone, don’t make any sudden moves. Slowly pulling out his empty hand, the Headmaster emphasizes his intention to not harm her. With extreme reverence, she quickly tucks her wand away and bows once. His dry tone is dangerous as any raised wand.

“The dark lord wishes to meet you…tonight…now.”

Constance can’t say or think of anything to say. Pulling out her leather duster to keep her warm, she drapes it over her arm and lets the Headmaster lead the way. Traveling the Floo Network, they arrive in London to a shop, practically screaming dark magic. Donning her coat, she follows Snape as he quickly drifts away going from street to street, in an almost unpredictable pattern. After twenty minutes, he deposits her into a decrepit house. Devoid of light, she casually fondles her wand, expecting trouble around every corner. As she eyes a perfect spot for an ambush, she finds Snape leading her towards it. From the opposite side of the room, a dark shadowy form solidifies and four henchmen hover just outside her view. The menacing demon within her illuminates every one of them, and she sees they are unconcerned with her, and more concerned with their surroundings. The dark malign voice of Lord Voldemorte grabs her full attention.

“My my! You are nothing I expected.”

Constance drops to her knees in a humiliating fashion, unsure how she behave; too little reverence can be fatal, and too much can rouse his anger. Constance can barely think, and asks the demon within her for pointers. What comes out of her mouth surprises both her and the demon.

“Master! I am honored by your presence!” Constance never imagined she’d be submitting to him in this fashion. Laughter from the dark lord only confuses her, until he continues.

“Severus! You have prepared her for our meeting?”

Concern flashes over him, and he replies sternly.

“No master, I did just as you told me. From what I understand, she had many different tutors in the past years, and seems to react instinctively to her superiors.”

Voldemorte laughs. “Well played Severus.” Pacing around her, he examines his newest recruit. Minutes pass as he ponders her fate, and Constance never once raises her head or voice. Voldemorte sighs dramatically. “If I only had more like her, she knows and understands the concept of discipline.” Pulling Constance’s left arm up, he rips her sleeve open revealing the dozens of deep scars inflicted on her by her vile teachers when she was a little girl. Turning her arm over and back he sneers and laughs. “Ah, now I see where you learned your humble skills! EVERYONE! Notice as she keeps her eyes set upon the ground, never once lifting them towards me! This child was trained through extreme discipline, and instinctively knows how to honor her master!” Leaning over, he whispers into her ear: “I can feel the evil coiled around your heart, it beats strongly and with purpose.”

Voldemort raises his wand then lowers it to her arm. As Constance cringes expecting his wand to etch the dreaded Deatheater mark into her flesh, he suddenly yanks his wand away and retreats from her side.

Constance nearly jumps out of her skin when he barks at her.

“RISE!”

Taking three good steps away from her, he spins around to face her. Constance rises slowly and waits for instructions. Suppressing her anger, she reminds herself she can always get Sara to mend her jacket and dress. “I won’t make you one of us that easily. If you obey, which I have no doubts you will, I will reward you greatly for your service. Fail me, well, there’s no place on this world for you to go that I can’t find you. Show no mercy to those spoiled brats, and I care little if they are from Slytherin or not. Discipline you understand, so institute the harshest discipline you can imagine to train the weak into strong or let them die. Many Slitherin ilk have become weak sniveling brats because of their parents; so ensure this disgusting trait is removed from Hogwarts, and you will make me proud. Severus! Return and give whatever she needs to accomplish her task. And you! (Turning to Constance) You will assist the Carrows in their classes, Severus had intended for you to be the Dark Arts teacher, but I promised that position to my loyal followers.”

Without waiting for Snape to reply he evaporates and leaving a malign haze in his wake.

Nothing is said or exchanged as they retraced their steps. It was only until they returned to Hogwarts did Headmaster Snape end the cold silence.

“You did well, Miss Hollinder, I have never seen him so pleased without torturing anyone. Umbridge’s quills were stored here. I will have them delivered to your office, as you are now in charge of all detentions. You will show little mercy in this task, as we both heard.” Showing Constance the door he whispers, “I’m sorry.”

The door slams closed, and Constance drags her depressed soul back to her room and collapses in exhaustion, crying herself to sleep.

 

It’s late after sunrise when Constance drags herself out of bed and freshens up. Enjoying her first private shower at Hogwarts, she wraps a towel around her hair sits back in her bed to relax. As her towel loosens around her chest she naturally sits up to fix it, when her eyes suddenly come to rest on a pile of objects at across from her bed. As her eyes focus, she remembers them as the bags she arrived with years ago. Exhilaration explodes as she leaps to them and extracts her most treasured traveling gear, officially off limits to any Hogwarts student, but now legalized under her professor status. Wrapped in leather and lined with green felt, the five-foot long box, not much wider than a child’s shoebox, held her most beloved of artifacts the demon within her had located especially for her. Opening it, she extracts a Japanese wooden sword made of Brazilian Cherry Wood, hand crafted five hundred years prior. Constructed by a Japanese wand maker, the weapon was one of a kind; and saying it was priceless wasn’t accurate enough. Bringing the sword to her cheek, she fondly embraces the weapon and swings it around her, executing her katas neglected from the moment she entered the castle. After an hour, and sweating profusely, she curses under her breath for needing another shower.

Extending it out away from her she commands: “Akira, I order you to hide within these halls, until I require your services.”

In a puff of red smoke, the sword apparates away, leaving the box vacant and lonely. Constance opens the second bag and extracts a wooden bracelet of native symbols and etchings, and sets it on the bed. Closing and latching it back, she tears off her towel, and returns to the shower once more.

 

Her first meeting with the Carrows went as expected; many orders, lots of telling, heavy doses of apathy, and little respect for the hoops she jumped through to become accredited through the ministry. Fortunately their opinion of her mattered little, as Voldemort had TOLD them that she was the Disciplinary Professor, and his word was final. To add insult to injury, Snape was technically over the Carrows and he held a high esteem towards Constance, far above either of the Carrows. She outlined her lesson plans, but it was obvious the Carrows had no clue as to what she was telling them. Leaving their office, Constance bit her tongue and refused to show them any respect. Being neither her equal or someone she reported to, she had others to please over them. Cracking open the text book for her class, she takes notes for the remainder of the day.

 

Waiting at the end of train station, Constance held her ground as the Hogwarts Express pulled in. With the rush of air and steam, Constance bowed her head and braced instinctively. As the engine comes to a halt far down the tracks, she waits for the last car to pull in and she breathes deeply. Exiting the train, several Slytherins are surprised to see Constance in a long black dress with glowing green lace decorating it. Smiling she begins reciting what all the professors are screaming down platform.

“Please would all first years assemble at the bottom of the stairs, while everyone else proceed to the left to the horseless carriages!”

Screaming the instructions over and over again, she fails to notice a ravishing redhead sneak up behind and pinch her. Jumping, she stops mid-sentence scolds Susan. “Hey! Don’t do that!” Smiling she hugs her and Sara cordially. Noticing several first years nervously walking aimlessly she approaches them and directs them towards the stairs and resumes recanting the prepared speech. With the latest students following the coat tails of the other first years, Constance gets a minute to chat.

“I only have one class this year, and I had to choose between Charms and Care of Magical Creatures, so I thought it was best I chose charms. Hagrid didn’t come back and it wouldn’t be the same without him.”

Nodding, Susan asks about study ‘clubs’ and Constance just shakes her head. “None! No more memberships okay you two? What we’ve got is what we got. No attention, this is as serious as I can get. Promise me! No one!”

Sara and Susan nod in agreement as Constance screams out her lines as a good professor, and leads the young first years to the boats. Leaving her friends behind, Constance helps the young kids into the boats alongside McGonagall and Filtwick. As the boats sail away, Constance disapparates to the castle entrance in time to help them out of the boats. No one ever asked who taught her how to disapparate, which brought a deep pleasure to her. Having learned from Amelia ages ago, she just got not using it until this year. With many students doing it, no one even bothered to ask her, especially as she was now a professor. With age came increased distance how far she could push it, and now she was impressed she wasn’t even tired from the spell. With her wand out, supposedly for illumination, she watched the shadows as the other professors expecting trouble at any minute. With the last student safely in the castle, Constance brings up the rear and nods that everyone is accounted for. With relief exuding from everyone, the castle is sealed tight and Constance joins the other professors at the head table. As her first day, little fanfare was made of her and especially her new position. She couldn’t ignore the whisperings across the room, from mixed elation from the Slytherin table to morbid fear from the Gryffindors.

As the evening ran to a close, Constance wandered casually back to her quarters and finds Susan waiting patiently by her door.

“I could give you detention for lingering in this area…this is a Professor only area, you know?”

Susan smiles deviously.

“I think I like the sound of that. The real reason I’m here it to return a bag you left behind at Sarah’s cottage.”

Constance opens her door and smiles as she fondles Sarah’s hand holding the bag. “I think I’d remember leaving behind a Rigby & Peller bag, to say the least shopping there.”

Susan shyly laughs, and bows her head. “Okay, you found me out. Just enjoy for now, and maybe you can model it for me sometime later.” After a passionate kiss, Susan bolts towards the hall, practically dancing in the air without a wand.

 

**Chapter 14: The Worst Day Ever.**

 

Bursting into the hall, Constance swishes her wand sealing the room off from the rest of the school; the fearsome gasp of first year students echoes in the wake of the clack from the locking door. With a fearsome grimace, she eyes each student to see who isn’t as afraid as their class mates around them. Noting the dozen various students on a paper, she begins.

“The Ministry of Magic feels it’s best to be prepared against the threat of attack by those who mean you harm. As first years, I will emphasize theory over practice; but rest assured you will learn basic defense skills here. Before anyone asks, I’m not British but I am a qualified professor, so crying to your mommies and daddies won’t help. I won’t baby you. I won’t give you a break, or even reconsider my decisions. If you fail here, you have to repeat it next year, and the humiliation will be unbearable. Failure in my classes means you’re potentially a victim for anyone who wants to hurt you, your family, or even friends. I’ll give no illusions to the seriousness of what I teach. Right now your family and everyone you might care about, be they full, half, or mud-bloods, are being slaughtered because they can’t protect themselves. If you don’t like what I’m saying, get over it! I’ll teach you how defend yourselves, but how well you do is entirely up to you. I won’t give preferential treatment if you’re a pure-blood, Slytherin, or ‘ _my daddy is in the ministry’_ crap! If you excel, I’ll praise you and your house! If you’re an embarrassment, I’ll make sure the entire school knows it! Questions?”

The silent fear radiating from the poor children inspires her to continue. She flicks her wand at the chest in the corner, and its lid flies open belching out books to every student. Only third year students or great would recognize the dreaded books utilized by Dolores Umbridge. The unimpressive _Defense Against the Dark Arts: A Return to Basic Principles_ text books were the pitiful texts used by the fear-filled administration that year, and Constance ironically discovered they had some usefulness this year.

“Good. These are your books, but you must turn them in at the end of the year. I will cover specific sections and pages, so reading the entire book would only be a useless expenditure of effort.”

With another flick of the wrist, the chalk board flips around and reveals a list of pages and dates.

“Copy this down. This is the reading list from the book organized by week, for the next six weeks. This is all you will do today. Once you are done copying this, you are free to leave. When you see me next, you will have all the reading done for this week. Failure to do so will rest on your shoulders, not mine. Good day. Oh! And unless you are all fond of heaps of homework tonight, I suggest you take this free time I just gave you and do as much of this reading before your next class, but hey! What do I know? Huh? You can stay here if you wish, or not.”

Constance sits down behind the desk and returns to reading the cursed textbook. Three quarters the way through it, she was determined to have it done by the end of the day. As the hapless students jot down the reading schedule, they hear their professor giggling and laughing reading the book, and have no idea if she’s really reading the book, or has simply gone bonkers. Taking notes of her own as she reads, she can’t believe the level of stupidity put into writing.

Her second years were as dumbfounded as the first years, except they had a bit of anger going backwards in their studies. Constance intended very little use for the text after the first years, but found only tidbits worthy of mention. With them, she emphasized the techniques and form of defensive magic, structuring the course towards application and execution, while citing information from the book. Constance also turned her dread and gloom on full blast for them, as she did for the first years. For her third and fourth years, she had to go a bit lax on them, as they had their first exposure to the book from Umbridge two years prior. Merging the two classes, she emphasized application and expanded the spell knowledge base to include dozens of spells used in combat, both defensively and offensively. Wrapping up at noon, Constance is closing the book as Susan and Sara stroll in to have lunch together.

With a flick of her wrist, Constance seals the room from the casual ear or nosey student. Unimpressed by her charlatan antics, they give Constance a look of disdain. Constance spends the next twenty minutes filling them in on her late-night meeting. Constance imagined they took it pretty well.

Sara took it the best.

“HOW CAN YOU BLOODY DO THIS! They’re children!”

Susan immediately intercedes.

“Listen! What could she do? She goes against him, she’s dead and everything we’ve been planning is for naught!”

Sara, nearly in tears, chokes out against her friends.

“We’re talking about torture!”

Susan steps between them, defending Constance who is speechless and nearly at tears to defend herself.

“SARA! Would you rather it was Malfoy, Pansy, or any of a number of the Slytherin psychos? This way it will be one of us, to keep it from becoming pleasurable for someone else. We know Constance, and we know who she really is. At least she will get no enjoyment for what she has to do, and not to push them to within inches of their lives! Sara, this is good; it’s not ideal, but it’s good. This is a thousand times better than the alternatives, so we support her. Got it?”

Sara can only nod, as does Constance, too numb to find her voice.

Susan thinks for a minute as the threesome stands in a circle studying the floor. Breaking the uncomfortable wall of silence she whispers her next words drawing them into a huddle.

“We can use this. Sara, you go back to your house and speak of this to no one. We must act like Constance is no longer friends with the houses, and is becoming a devout supporter of you know who. There is no doubt he has spies all around us, so let’s use this apparent rift between old friends. This will tell him she has broken her ties with the other houses, and you can be upset. There is no way you’ll be able to hide it, so let’s use this in our favor. You won’t talk to Constance until the final day, not one polite word! Got it?”

Susan waits for Sara to nod, before continuing.

“Good. There is no way I’ll be able to fake not loving this girl of mine, and I’ll let it form a rift between my friends and me. Any associations they might have thought existed between us will seem gone. Any apparent alliances will be cast away, and they will not fear us. Surprise will once again be our greatest ally. Go! We won’t speak again until the final battle. I love you Sara, as does Constance, but go now. Make sure not a single person in this school believes we are friends any longer.”

Crying Sara runs from the hall, and never looks back. Years later, during the Death Eater trials led by Harry Potter, Sara will testify it was “the worst day of her life.”

 

 It was on the second week which the first detentions began to pile in, thanks to the Carrows. Handing out punishments for everything from chewing gum to speaking out of turn, Constance numbly assigned them with a vile sneer, as if taking pleasure from every scratch of the horrid etching quills Professor Umbridge had infamously used during her tenure. By Christmas break no one dared lock eyes with her, fearing a session in her detention. Professor McGonagall had uselessly argued against the tortuous practices to Headmaster Snape, who told her it was his orders to Constance, not her own will. His choice of words immediately struck her, and she nodded, understanding who was directing Constance behind the scenes. Susan later recanted to the inquiry hearing how all during Christmas break, she had to console and convince Constance to continue her mission for the Dark Lord, no matter the costs. Constance was a shambles both physically and emotionally. Due to her duties as Head Detention Master, she was commonly referred to as the Dungeon Master by the student body. By October, the headmaster privately acknowledged the Dark Lord was both impressed and pleased by her performance. This meant everything to her, but she refused to show any pleasure in her duties.

Allowing Snape to feign jealously at her success at pleasing public enemy number one, she enjoyed being barred from the meetings with the vile master by Snape. It worked in his favor, and it kept her from getting close and personal with the retched beast. Her dour mood extended into her classes and studies. If she didn’t have her umbilical cord to humanity, she imagined vile forms of doing herself in would overcome her sensibilities. Susan has become more than just a close friend, conspirator, lover and confidant; she was Constance’s only lifeline to sanity.

 

Her time with Susan during Christmas and Easter break helped to reinforce her moorings to reality, and act as a deterrent to the Death Eaters to mess with Susan’s family out of revenge. All around them fear and secret abductions prevail, heightening the paranoia around the Dark Lord. For once, Constance’s status with the Dark Lord became apparent when Death Eaters stormed in to abduct the owner of a dress shop she shopped regularly at in London. As they burst through the door, they spun to a halt on their heels seeing Constance shopping through the racks of material. For once in the months of blatant kidnappings, they hesitated. Serious doubts arose as they wished to follow the Dark Lord’s orders, but unwilling to cross the Dark Lord’s favorite disciple. The disciple reference came as a surprise during an outing to Gringots when she ran into a pair of Death Eaters who showed her considerable humility, despite her lack of faithful and overt service to the Dark Lord. It seemed he had voiced his plans for her after graduation, to take his campaign to the Americas and beyond; plans which she was totally oblivious of. 

In a begging tone they asked to take the seamstress Matilda Flowerwood, which Constance realized she couldn’t resist or thwart. With a nod of her head they carryon and drag Matilda into the street, leaving her apprentices cowering in the corner. The Death Eaters show further restraint by not destroying the store as they typically do before apparating away, leaving Constance standing in the middle of the store numb and cold. Turning to the pair of apprentices she points to the eldest.

“What’s your name…Mary, right? Mary Osborne?” She tries not to let her vile tone creep out.

Her auburn strands, matted to her face from the tears pouring down her cheeks, conceal her true beauty. Shaking violently, she can barely respond coherently. Constance interprets her subtle nod as an answer, and continues.

“I don’t think we’ll be seeing Matilda again. This is your store now, make Matilda proud. I’ll try to put in a good word for you with the Death Eaters, but I can’t promise anything.” Constance raises her sleeves to prove she lacks the mark of a true Death Eater. My word lacks real strength right now, but Matilda always believed in you, so I will try and help you.”

Mary nods once again, and remains on the floor of the store long after Constance apparates back to Susan’s side.

 

**Chapter 15: The Countdown**

 

During the final weeks leading to the assault on Hogwarts, it became evident the Dark lord was turning his attention towards the school. It was late in the day on May 1st when Constance felt the Dark Lord was on his way. She sits in the dark for hours until finally showering and changing into comfortable pants, boots and long shirt, all of which in her ominous black scheme. Opening her chest, she places her wand in her pocket and extracts the wooden bracelets. Sliding them onto her left wrist, they glow momentarily and shrink to a comfortable size on her tiny wrist. Throwing her doomsday cloak over her shoulders, she lowers the hood and sighs heavily. Gazing down in her chest, she extracts a leather pouch with a zipper around its width. Taking it to her desk, she sits in front of the mirror for an hour before finally unleashing the pouches contents. On the left side of the pouch, lies a barber’s scissors while on the right are various combs and razors. Grabbing her hair, she tightly wraps a rubber band high on her hair, at the bottom of her neck.  Slipping the scissors from their restraints, she reaches back and grabs the bulk of her hair in her left hand. After taking a long draught of air, she reaches back with the scissors and snips away the last 7 years of growth. Though she holds only 2 feet of hair from regular salon visits with Susan, it was still an impressive amount. The blades cleanly slice the hair mass just above the rubber band; and in seconds the long ponytail lies limp on the table. Ritualistically, she tidies up the haircut to the best of her abilities, and drags herself to Dinner with the cloak over her head.

Sitting with Filtwick, she mentions the time is drawing near and the pair converse in whispers. Standing, she gently apologizes to both Filtwick and Professor McGonagall for what the dark lord made her do. Filtwick acts far more understanding, but Minerva bites her tongue unsure where the young professor’s loyalties truly lie. Though Dumbledore only once mentioned Constance was a trusted ally HE had designed, she was unsure how much influence the dark lord had over her. As she leaves she pauses at Susan’s side to bend down to whisper in her ear. No one can hear what is said, but Susan sorely nods in approval. As Constance starts to leave she pauses, and says her last public words coldly over her shoulder.

“You’re in charge of the group now…the tutoring group.”

Nodding, Susan quickly finishes eating to find Sara.

 

It was after eleven that evening when Constance was woken from her light slumber. A vile sense of urgency pushed her to her senses, and she immediately sat up in bed. Looking around, she hears no one at her door, and she sits in the dark straining to hear beyond her quarters. A heavy rumble shudders through the castle as she feels the expulsion of a powerful spell nearby. Grabbing her doomsday cloak, she throws it over her leather shirt and pant set, and slips into her boots as she hears another rumble. Running to her window, she sees Headmaster Snape diving out the window above and disappearing into the night. With a lump in her throat, she checks her pockets one last time, and exits her room. Striding through the hall, she sees a mob of professors approaching her, with wands drawn. Seeing little choice, she prays that Susan and Sara are ready, and surrenders her wand to Professor Slughorn as he joins her in the approaching mob. Sitting at the Slytherin table, she waits patiently as plans for evacuation are briefed. When Voldemort petitions for Harry Potter, she can’t act surprised when Pansy screams to grab him. A subtle shake of her head keeps her loyal Slytherins from making a fool of themselves as the school stands against them.

 Constance never imagined she would isolated from the rest of the Lion Guard at the school’s darkest hour. Crowded with the majority of the house, she has to constantly chide her Slytherin loyalists who were against abandoning the school in its moment of dire need. As the youngest students are forced to file out of the school through the tunnel, she was forced to keep her word to Professor McGonagall to ensure their safety out of the castle. To keep anyone from backtracking into the castle, she enlists them to take point along the route to protect the students and get them out of harm. When the first concussive roars hit the school, the orderly portion of the evacuation ends abruptly and becomes quantified chaos, and she loses track of all the older Slytherin students. Believing most left, she can’t be for certain, especially not for Crabbe and Goyle. Frustrated, she tells the eldest Lion Guard after he gets the last of the students away, to gather as many of the guard together and double back on foot to scout the disposition of the enemy forces. Leaving a dozen Lion Guards in the tunnels, she orders them to keep anyone from coming through again. With her duties to the new headmaster accomplished, she strides up the stairs to mount a negligible defense with whoever was left.

It takes her an eternity to make her way towards the front of the castle, killing giant spiders left and right. When she finally reaches the forward windows, she’s in shock to see the array of forces the Dark Lord had brought to bear. Diving for cover, she narrowly avoids being crushed by the collapsing wall, and the spiders which charge forth. As she skids to a halt, she reaches to grab her wand only to see it resting 5 feet away. As she prepares to scoot herself towards it, eight large padded feet of a gigantic spider land between her and the wand. Without a pause she curses the beast with her left arm raised. The sleeve of her shirt pulls back exposing the wooden bracelets of her youth, and a burst of sickening yellow and green light shoots out enveloping the creature. Screams erupt as it tumbles forward in agony and dies. Scampering up, she fires off consecutive blasts at each spider as it charges towards her. Losing count after 12, she retreats into the castle, abandoning her wand, and seals the corridor by locking the door behind her.

Catching her breath, she notices the flood of monsters out of the Forbidden Forest, and sighs. Rushing down to the Great Hall, she’s relieved to find Susan helping pull the wounded to safety. With the roar of battle deafening, she pulls her away to get her out of general sight from the others.

Susan cannot believe her eyes and throws herself onto Constance, kissing her without reserve or judgment. Reluctantly, Constance breaks the kiss to speak.

“We need to gather the remaining Lion Guard and strike at the onslaught coming from the Forbidden Forest. With the defenses failing, we should be able to apperate directly there. There are hundreds of spiders and giants coming out. If we don’t stop them now, the losses will be gruesome!”

Nodding Susan rushes away to gather all the surviving members as Constance finds a secluded corner. With her wand lost amongst the spiders, she sighs and calls out into the din of war.

“Akira! I have dire need of your presence.”

A puff of bloody red smoke erupts and fills Constance’s outstretched hands with a five foot long wooden sword. As Susan returns with a dozen LG members, Constance tucks her sword into her back sheath and leads them through the tunnels and to the forbidden forest.

Destroying numerous spiders and loyal fiends to Voldemort, they lose track of time. A cold hand caresses her soul and Constance knows someone close to her has fallen; and she instinctively looks for Susan. Battling a Mountain Troll swinging a tree limb as a club, she has her hands full but doesn’t seem outmatched. As she uproots a pine and buries it into the throat of a massively building of a giant, she scans the battle and can only count five LG students. For a fraction of a second she hears the condescending tut of Snape, only to see nothing which could have made it. Sighing, she uproots another tree, and uses it to swat at a wall of spiders thundering towards them. Swinging it left and right, she scoops up the majority of spiders and flings the tree into the air. The tree eventually lands amongst the trolls sending angry spiders in the middle of their formation. The resulting chaos is priceless. Only after a sudden retreat of giants, trolls, and spiders, do they get to count their fallen. Strewn around the forest of upended spider legs and the three massive giants, each impaled by dozens of huge oaks, lay the bodies of seven students either mangled beyond recognition or bloated from spider venom. Being the only humans in the killing field, it’s easy to sort them, even if they can’t be certain for whom they are grieving. Constance scoops up the limp bodies of a pair of young Slytherin, while the surviving Lion Guard mournfully gather the remaining corpses and disapperate back to the castle tunnel.

Covered in blood, Constance and Susan drag their feet into the main hall to see if the school’s losses were as bad as theirs. Bodies are littered everywhere, and the LG lay their fallen alongside the school’s. Eyeing students who once sat alongside her in classes or those who suffered in her detention sessions, she feels a gut-wrenching sense of pain being transmitted towards her. Feeling the general sense of disdain towards her, she excuses herself from the hall with Susan. Finding her room intact, she invites Susann inside to clean up and wash the blood off. As they share the shower, they hold each other crying the anxiety and stress off their souls. After an hour, they dry off and redress, only after magically mending and cleaning their clothes.

Exiting, they are drawn towards the front of the castle as a commotion gathers at the entrance. Arriving at the overlook above the gates, they see Voldermort carrying the limp body of Harry Potter. Dread kicks in and Susan gasps as the beast brags and gloats over his victory against a mere child. As Constance ponders their next move, a skirmish erupts and the fighting resumes despite the obvious futility. The thunderous charge of the trolls makes her draw her sword and call upon its dreadful powers. Constance chants religiously in a magical daze. The night’s sky roars, crashes and lightning falls upon the charge ending it as fast as it began. Susan gazes at the slaughtered monsters dumbstruck as to the power which Constance wielded. Turning her attention to the forest, she sends out a call for help to the surviving Centaurs. As Constance staggers she grabs Susan’s arm for support and leans against the wall.

“The sword requires a lot from me. I was told when I get older the draw won’t be as taxing…but I don’t think that is entirely true.”

Susan stammers and whispers so that no one below can hear her. “If you can do that, why don’t you just kill you know who?”

Constance just shakes her head. “You don’t get it…A guy like that? He’s an experienced killer! When you don’t have luck, experience is far more valuable! He’s killed hundreds if not thousands of people; and he’s faced off and survived far more novel and ingenious wizards than me! Instincts are honed for battle, and they are second nature to him. Even if I silent cast, some part of him senses the inbound spell and he will erect a defense appropriately. I have given serious thought to what you are saying months ago, and that demon inside of me has told me that even he would be hard up defeating a creature like him. If there were three or more of us like Dumbledore and Severus, then he’d seriously throw everything into one fight…but neither of them are around anymore.”

Susan stumbles on her last words. “Snape…he’s dead?”

Constance nods dryly. “Yah…I felt it when we were fighting in the woods. I can only think of one person who would or could do it.” She gazes down on the shifting battle lines. “Gather the surviving Lion Guard, and I’ll figure out what we should do next.”

Susan nods and runs down the hall leaving Constance lying against the wall. Closing her eyes, she dives deep into her soul and finds the darkness pacing relentlessly and pauses for her arrival. Constance approaches him and nods.

“The chosen one appears dead, but his body is missing. The battle is amuck, and the Dark Lord will not be contained for much longer. What are your suggestions, or what am I missing?”

With a toothy snicker, the malevolent spirit glides up to Constance.

“Chosen One…Ha! He’s not dead moron! He’s probably using a powerful spell or artifact to hide. This isn’t your battle, but I’ll help you keep this psycho from getting out of this trap.”

Puzzled by his trap reference, Constance opens her mouth, but finds herself torn out of her meditation. Cursing under her breath she stands up and draws her sword. In her mind’s eye she sees Neville Longbottom unable to resist Voldemort’s binding spell, and she knows that she must break it. Knowing all well that Voldemort will know she is the one who dispelled his magic, she accepts the consequences by breaking the magical tethers the Dark Lord maintains against the young wizard. The energy expenditure collapses her knees and she begins to tumble. The last thing she sees and hears is a brave roar from Neville as he stands and casts a lethal cutting spell upon the Dark Lord’s snake, killing the vile creature. Even without a head, the reptile’s body coils and rolls in death. Constance cracks her head against the wall as she falls, closing her eyes to the fantastic battle she will miss.

 

 

**Epilogue**

**_Five Years Later_ **

 

Storming out of the Chamber of Inquiries, Head Auror and Inquisitor Potter tries to dodge the endless stream of complaints following him from the court room. Frustrated, he magically slams the door behind him only to see a pair of mages who slipped through. With her red ribbon locks’ bouncing from her running to catch up, Ginny raises her wand and slams the door in front of him.

“HARRY! You have to hear her out!”

Frustrated he turns and extends his hand. “Fine! Let me see this supposed letter from Dumbledore.”

Offering the scroll, Susan Bones places it into his hand and steps back as he inspects the charred and mauled scroll case. With half of it destroyed, he just shakes his head.

“This is incomplete, it inadmissible as evidence.”

Ginny’s angry glare has him reconsider his words. Breaking the wax seal of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, Potter unravels the burnt and tattered scroll. Taking out his wand he runs it over it, and is noticeably surprised with the authenticity. Reading the half page of surviving text, he immediately recognizes Headmaster Dumbledore’s writing style and fights from dismissing the damaged scroll. With more than half of the document missing he can barely follow contents. In the undestroyed portion he clearly recognizes Dumbledore’s, McGonagall’s, and Professor Snape’s signatures prominently displayed at the bottom. Rereading the document he also sees the name Constance Hollander as the subject of the letter, and that she is “under specific orders…Slytherin House and he who shall not be named.”

Harry just shakes his head and tries to hand back the scroll.

“This proves nothing. It’s too damaged to be understood.”

Ginny grabs Susan’s trembling hand and yells at Harry.

“HARRY POTTER! This proves exactly what Minerva has been telling you from day one that Constance was operating under Dumbledore’s direct orders! Do you think you were that special that he didn’t have others operating in secret? He was a master chess player, and to not be working dozens of moves simultaneously is not beyond him!”

Potter just sighs and stops Ginny from casting a curse upon him by stepping up to her.

“It’s not that! Too many students saw her as the enemy in those final months, and they want vindication. They won’t accept my word alone or Minerva’s. They remember her only as the vile torturing professor, second only to the Dark Lord himself.”  
            Susan pleads with tears streaming down her cheeks.

“But you have testimony that he ordered her to do those things to the students! Failure to obey was not only a death sentence, but it went against Dumbledore’s orders….PLEASE…retract the arrest orders.”

  Harry only shakes his head once again.

“I can’t do that Susan, she must face the inquisitors like all the others.”

Susan crumples up on the floor and Ginny closes with him.

“Harry are you dense or just plain stupid! This is more than enough evidence to absolve her of wrong doing! We’ve let other Deatheaters walk free on weaker evidence, and this verifies Minerva’s verbal testimony.”

Harry pauses then addresses Susan.

“I’ve tried to get the inquisitors to vote on this but too many refuse to accept Minerva’s testimony as the truth. I’m sorry, but it’s final. Unless she submits to the inquisitors, the arrest orders stand.”

With anger burning in her eyes, Susan stands and pulls out her wand.

“I will NEVER let her ‘submit’ to that bunch of thugs just so that they can truss her up in some crow’s cage and be tortured in Azcaban! As long as I live I will curse the Ministry; and anyone who tries to take her, will have their remains returned in a shoe box.”

With a swish from her wand, she disappears leaving Ginny staring with anger burning holes in his head.

“You and the rest of the inquisitors are idiots.”

Ginny storms away, with Harry chasing behind her.

 

Susan materializes on the streets of London and takes a series of trains until she feels safe enough to use magic to get to her secret home. Stepping through the threshold, she sets her cloak on a hook and joins Constance in the kitchen. Dressed only in a black flyaway gown, she stands waiting for the water for tea to boil. Lost in her thoughts, she jumps when Susan comes behind her and wraps her arms around her. Relishing the feel of satin and Susan’s touch against her skin, Constance purrs in delight. After a slow kiss, she breaks it and scrutinizes Susan’s eyes. Constance grimaces knowing how well the final meeting with the Ministry of Magic went.

“So we’re moving huh?”

Susan turns to wipe the tears falling down her cheeks. Constance sets the tea off the fire and turns it off.

“Well, at least I can show you the world I’m from. Australia is beautiful in the winter, and Micronesia is beautiful year round. Besides, I don’t like carrying around too much junk. Maybe after a few years things will change and we can get Headmaster McGonagall to talk to the inquisitors personally. She’s the last one left who can vouch for me. After how they came down on Umbridge with the crimes against underage wizards, its best I stay away.”

Susan can only nod before finally speaking.

“My contact in the ministry says they aren’t planning to make a move on you until Monday. Hermione wants Potter with them to arrest you, and he has a birthday party tomorrow, which he refuses to miss. That gives us all today and tomorrow to disappear. They are fairly consistent at the ministry, so we are safe for the moment. Your good ole friend Ernie is filing an injunction to block your arrest, along with a few secret Lion Guard members. They promised to work at clearing your name, but it’s these staunch few inquisitors who refuse to bend. Besides, they don’t want to face you without you having your morning tea first, and I bought the travel trunk to pack away our house years ago incase this happened.”

Constance smiles and lovingly embraces Susan to continue their passionate kiss. Susan leads her back to bed, losing the entire afternoon of packing. By that evening, their house of 5 years lies vacant and the life of wandering wizards begin for the young pair.

 

 


End file.
